Rookie
by CalliopeMused
Summary: There will be no further updates. No amount of asking is going to change this. My cousin died while the final parts of this story were in draft, and any attempt at going back to this story brings me back to losing Ryan. Please stop asking me to update.
1. Interview

_Meet the new (and improved) Rookie. I've altered a few petty details, cleared up a few grammar errors and typos, and streamlined a few rocky sections. I'll finish this story, I promise._

_I don't own the Teen Titans or any characters borrowed from Gotham's police force. The plot is mine, the characters are not. Police protocol isn't mine, but I have talked to a cop and someone in college for their associate's in criminal justice. This disclaimer (I don't own Teen Titans) will apply to the entire story, as I'm assuming we all know that they aren't mine and this is a fussy technicality. _

**Summary:** Cyborg likes hero business, and decides to make a job of it- as a human. The story opens with his interview, and his career skyrockets from there. While working to become a full patrolman, not just another rookie, he helps solve a high-profile case, meets a girl, meets his partner, meets a third girl, listens to both sides of Raven and Beast Boy's relationship, is the only person to hear all angles, and learns about the "good old boys" system through his partner, a dispatch, and the "good young cops," a dysfunctional family connected through the badge. Sound complicated? That's just a summary.

To clear up names- Cyborg is Victor Stone, Raven is Raven Roth (well, someone might want to know), Beast Boy is Garfield (Gar) Logan, Starfire is Kori Anderson, Robin is Dick Grayson. All formalities are covered, I believe. If not, they should be.

* * *

"Name?" 

"Victor Stone."

"Full name?"

"Do you need it?"

"Yes."

(Interviewee sighs). "Victor Cornelius Stone."

"The others won't hear it. You have an associate's degree in criminal justice from a correspondence college approved by our board of directors, a physical fitness verification card citing an excellent time on the obstacle course, and a very impressive recommendation from the Jump City police chief. You also have two bench-press weights- one impressive, one ridiculously large."

"I was part of a superhero team for a while in Jump City. I got to know the chief there, and took out more than my share of criminals. The weights- well, showing is better than telling." (Interviewee removes ring. Chief nods.) "I'm half-robot. I was messed up pretty badly before. I'm human up here (he taps his head), but some muscles aren't. I used my muscles for the first number, and the extra ones for the second. I used all organic brainpower for college. I wear an image hologram usually, but I still won't need Kevlar and the stuff only irritates the more sophisticated joints."

"That's all, then?"

"Yessir."

"I technically need to interview another person, but three positions are open. You're in, but you won't know that until later today, when the personnel department will record giving you a call."

"Thank you, Chief. When do I show up for work?"

"Rookies- always eager to start out. You begin tomorrow at 0600. We use military time, here. You'll be with Officer Lawrence, patrol car 182. You'll be straight rookie for six months, and don't sneeze without Lawrence there with a handkerchief. After that, you drive for six weeks. Lawrence only observes, unless you're in trouble. After two mishaps, you're out for another round in police academy. If Lawrence gives a good report, you're in as a full cop. In Gotham, we always use two-to-a-car. We get some supervillains- call for the big guns, unless you're unmasking."

"I'll only do that for emergencies. I want to make it as a cop as a person, not with some special technology."

"Understood. I officially haven't said this yet, but welcome to the family, tough love all around. You might get a bit of hazing, but if it gets too bad, tell your partner- no stiff upper lip for something too offensive, but no whining. Use your own judgment. You're going to make your reputation here."

"Got it."

"You just might make it, rookie. Might- no guarantees. We won't coddle you like the drilll sergeants at boot camp do." (He looks to secretary taking transcripts). "Jenny, delete all notes after his 'Yessir' and insert standard protocol."

"I will, Mr. Jones- Chief." She always forgot his preferred title, even for those technically not entitled to use it. She gathered her notes, tucking a pen behind her ear. There was one use for wildly curling red hair- it held a pen. "And- welcome to the family, Mr. Stone." Her freckled complexion reddened furiously.

"Victor, Ms. . ."

"Wilkinson, but I insist on Jenny. Have a nice day." She almost fled for her cubicle in Personnel Management, where she had the sometimes too-personal jobs of Payroll Accountant and Shift Clerk.

"There is no policy here against in-station dating, but station time is only used for brief visits, and if you break up, there will be no quarrels during work."

"I never-"

"I go over that with all new recruits. Ms. Wilkinson's presence just reminded me."

"0600 tomorrow, Chief?"

"Yes, and stop to chat with Ms. Wilkinson about your size. She'll fix you up with a uniform. You might want to put your ring on, if half of you is a secret. She won't tell, and typed transcripts of the interview won't show a clue. The alien in investigation's name hasn't been leaked yet, after all, and she's orange- people think she uses bad self-tanner."

"Starfire?"

"I stand corrected," he muttered.

"No, no one leaked her. I worked with her in the Teen Titans."

"Next you'll be telling me you know Batman," the chief grumbled.

"No, but I did work with his sidekick for a while. Robin is a good friend."

"Get out of my office, Officer Stone- you need to go shore up your defenses. Get a good sleep. Officer Lawrence will work you to the bone, or wire. Lawrence doesn't care worse. You'll come out of car 182 as a cop or a washout. We all want to see apolice officer- Gotham needs a few cops who can deal with costumed villains."

Victor almost felt like whistling as he left the office, but restrained the urge. There was no need to scare away potential friends in the force. The extremely shy Jenny quickly handed him a uniform- blue button-down shirt, black slacks, leather blazer with the station name scrawled beside the left lapel, an empty holster, and shoes. The gun and badge would be issued the next day, she explained hurriedly.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Jenny shrugged. "I'm not in until 0900, and Officer Lawrence will issue your gun and badge."

"I'll make the effort."

She blushed scarlet and went back to her paperwork, leaving Victor to walk away, duffel bag emblazoned with GCPD in hand. That girl was shy enough to make a certain one of Raven's emotions seem outgoing, but he and Timid had gotten along. Maybe he would just have to put in a little more effort.


	2. Meet the Partner

At precisely 0600, Victor Stone had been standing just inside the GCPD, as all officers called the Gotham City Police Department, for eight minutes. The empty holster on his right hip felt oddly light, as did the left breast pocket meant for a badge. He saw a police car pull up, 182 printed in the fender, running board, and bumper of the standard police-issue Crown Victoria. The cop to step out was not who he expected.

His new partner held out a wiry hand tanned from long days in the sun. "Victor Stone, I presume. I'm Officer Mary Lawrence, I won't be going easy on you, and yes, as a matter of fact, I am a proud grandmother. Here's your gun, here's your badge, you're riding shotgun." Her handshake was quick and strong, just as decisive as she was.

He nodded, slightly stunned and still processing the information from the quick run-down. "How many years have you been a cop?"

"You're twenty?" she asked, giving him a sharp look. He nodded. "Longer than you've been alive, Vic. Or is it Stone? Never mind, I like Vic- one syllable, quick, easy to say, doesn't sound like I'm talking to a rock."

He slipped the semiautomatic two-chamber pistol into his holster, snapping the slip-guards in place. While doing that, he dropped the badge. Before he could catch it, she snatched it from midair and had it affixed to his pocket before he could blink. "Call me Mare. Short, memorable, not too girly. Any questions, rookie?"

"No ma'am."

"Don't 'ma'am' me, Vic. I just told you to call me Mare. I'm a grandmother, not an ailing sheep. No one here worth talking to holds with titles. The chief's Chief, none of this 'honorable commander' junk some precincts take up, the decent cops all don't insist rookies use 'officer' or 'patrolman' or 'patrolwoman,' in one snot's case. The not-so-decent cops will raise Cain because you're black and I lack certain anatomy that supposedly helps in police work. I've never seen an advantage to either."

"Will they?"

"You better believe it, sorry to say. I bet you've heard a few slurs in your time. They'll talk, all bullies and cowards do. If it gets too bad, come to me. If I can't get them to focus, I'll call in the chief. Now, most stuff can be ignored, but certain words and phrases are strictly monitored and result in immediate investigation. We have good regulations on the books, and enough good cops to make them work."

"Got it."

"You must have had great friends. You haven't given me one are-you-really-Officer-Lawrence-or-is-somebody-trying-to-trick-me stare."

Vic smiled. "I know a girl who would have no problem beating the crap out of me and throwing me out of a window before I could think of landing a punch." Raven might use more elegant language, but she wasn't there. Starfire was much more relaxed about such matters- until she was angry. No one in the Tower had ever tried to provoke Starfire.

"She telekinetic, or that quick?"

"Both."

"Oh- you're the superhero, then. Someone glanced at Jenny's notes while she was trying to do four things at once, as usual. All that got out is that you used to be a hero, part of one of the groups that keep springing up. I thought you'd like to know."

"I really would rather not go into that if at all possible, Mare."

"Fine with me. If I wanted sob stories, I would have gone into social work. Ready to roll? We're on traffic duty today, standard procedure for all rookies. We'll ease you into this. That cuts the loss rates. You're back up- observe for the first few stops, then you take a few drivers. Size alone should help you out. Lemme see your best don't-mess-with-the-cop face." He made an attempt as he pulled his seatbelt on. She was not planning on a tour of the car first. She believed in getting in and getting moving. Ifhepaid attention, he'd see how to work the extras that made cop cars different vehicles."Almost frown, eyebrows in, you _know _they're guilty." He tried again. "It'll do, but you'll work on that."

"I have handled tough cases before, as a superhero, so I probably won't get us both killed."

She laughed, with a half-smile so wry he couldn't help but think of Raven's biting sarcasm. The Titans had broken up a few years ago, shortly after Robin decided to become Dick Grayson, official heir to Bruce Wayne (and Nightwing on the side), Kori went with him to Gotham for some new job, and Beast Boy and Raven headed off to college.

"Worry about yourself, rookie. You're a new cop. Your badge's clear-coat hasn't worn off, the criminals remember old faces, and you aren't wearing Kevlar. I'll talk to the chief and have some at a rendezvous point. For now, the windows are bulletproof, a new addition Gotham finally let in after a really nasty triple-shooting, all one night."

"Chief said I don't need it."

"That kind of attitude will get you killed. I wear bullet-proof. So does he, whenever he gets out of the office. You're the only one without the bulk."

"Steel plating. It won't ricochet bullets or let them sink in- a polymer my dad started and I finished. Trust me. The only place they're shooting me is a small part of my right shoulder and the right side of my face. For my neck, I have quick reflexes, and there aren't Kevlar neck braces."

She poked him in the left side, the one closest to her. "Hologram? What do I see if that malfunctions? Someone else?"

"No, just your standard young adult black male with a few prosthetics" _including two arms, two legs, a torso, part of the spinal column, and half a face. Good thing Jenny was on the relatively normal side- the red eye probably would have been enough to scare her out of the room. _

"Just checking. I'm pretty open-minded, just as long as your out-of-uniform pastimes are legal."

"I'm fine. No drugs, no illicit habits, very few illegal activities. On a police level, I've broken a few traffic laws and we probably took out a few villains too hard, but they deserved it."

"Which one? I won't report you, but I follow a few villains and hope someone lands them in a crypt or in jail. I know it's bad, but it's cop mentality. The only reformed villain is a dead villain. Life isn't a Disney movie."

"Slade."

_"Slade? _As in the mastermind yet to be captured? I've been trying to track him for years. He took out my last partner, snapped his neck with a patrol car. Don's still alive, barely, but can't move a thing below his neck or on his face. Last year he was wiggling his ears, half to be obnoxious, I swear." She obviously didn't want to go into it.

"We've lost a friend- well, she would have been a friend- to him. She betrayed us for him, but tried to beat him in the end. Our leader and one of my closest friends had a few run-ins."

"He only wants superheroes for apprentices. He never tried for you?" She was a little friendlier after a cup of coffee (generic brand, black, thick enough to leave grit in the bottom of the cup, courtesy of station-quality filters). Besides, he wasn't the usual raw beginner in need of a round of "bad cop." He would listen, look to her for directions until it was his turn to shine, and would make a decent partner, a very flattering estimation.

"I wasn't his type. Atlas messed with me, but I won out there, at least."

"Atlas the killer robot? Why'd he have a beef with you?"

"I beat him at a video game."

"Come on, partner. No ducking out."

"I'm serious. To save my friends, I had to take him down."

_"You_ took down Atlas."

"Yeah."

"I suddenly feel better. The last rookie I had almost got me killed, and was a complete moron. He ran after a purse-snatcher in the worst part of Gotham, straight into a heavy-duty drug deal. He's only still alive because I forced him into Kevlar." She shook her head. "He couldn't spit in the ocean if he was in the middle of the Pacific. His aim was the worst I've ever witnessed."

"The first time I started out, I was fourteen. I stopped the superhero deal last year, when the group grew up. Police academy was half review, but a system of rules and regulations takes out guesswork."

"Shut up before I like you, rookie. I can't break my reputation of being the toughest partner in the force." She fishtailed purposely, darting into a side street to pull over a car engaged in a probable drug deal.

"Your reputation's safe with me, Mare." She was a less careful driver than he was, though she had a perfect no-accident record. She was lucky or a genius- he'd figure out which later, but was leaning towards the latter. He added a fifth person to the list of Girls That Could Beat the Wiring Out of Him list, right behind Raven, Starfire, Jinx, and Bumblebee. The last had gone out with him for a while, before deciding she was meant to be with Speedy. He'd only not been on another date for nine months, to this day. Maybe he could change that soon, and he was beginning to get an idea about who he would ask.


	3. First Day on the Job

_Just a few quick side-notes- about little additions to tickets, that is standard practice in my part of the United States, as the earlier-mentioned officer told my class. The lesson here? Be nice to cops. If you're nice, they just might let you get away with impeding traffic instead of speeding. _

* * *

Vic returned to the car hesitantly after his first traffic stop. Mare had let him listen twice through her microphone (required to be on during all routine stops), then decided to throw him out of the "nest." He had issued a ticket for speeding (clocking 59) in a residential area (25 by default) past a school (definitely 25-mile-per-hour zone). The businessman promised to fight in court, was rude enough to put Miss Manners into a coma (actually, the last part might not be such a bad thing), and insinuated a comment about Vic's race. In all, it had been a disaster. 

"Not bad," she judged, surprising him. "Your court date's next week- Gotham moves fast. Dress up nice. I'll go with you, of course, and we get paid for a cozy assignment. Now, we have a few advantages. Your mike was on, catching every last one of his remarks. Our camera caught him flipping you the bird while you walked away. Now, we let the judge know about the man's level of annoyance."

"How?" He hadn't heard this side of police work before.

"Draw a dot on the ticket, near his name."

"What?"

"I'm serious. Get out your pen and make a small circle, then fill it in nice and dark- that's it. Now, circle it."

"Why?" he asked, completing the symbol.

"To let the judge know the man was an asshole. Polite people get smiley faces, if they're above and beyond the norm. Outright inappropriate people get a free ride to the station. Pregnant women actually in labor get an escort to the hospital."

"Cop work isn't all danger all the time, is it?"

"You have to watch. There are too many sickoes who wouldn't mind at all taking out of a cop, even if the donut-downing lazy chunky man is a creation of myth, usually."

"Do cops really develop a donut obsession?" He had always wondered, but have never wanted to be rude enough to ask. Now, he was a cop (in training). He could ask without being entirely out of line.

"Not me. Ask Charlie later. He's a good man, and the type who would give his only donut, or anything else, away after a twenty-day fast. Too good, unless someone makes him be mean. If he has to get nasty, look out. His partner was down with a bullet to the back, after he turned to see reinforcements.Thatmanpanicked. But Charlie- he took out thirteen men with fourteen bullets. He shot one assailant twice, the one to put a bullet in his partner. Cops shoot to kill. We don't fire warning shots- every bullet is accounted for. Charlie hasn't picked up a gun since, but he's the best dispatch a cop could ever hope to find." She pushed the 'talk' button on her radio for the last eleven words. "Right, Chuck?"

"Only to you, Mare. Everyone else calls me Charlie. But no, _you _have to be different." From the teasing tone, they were good friends. "I heard you have a new victim- er, rookie."

"That's me," Victor said.

"The famous Vic Stone- one of the good old boys found you don't wear Kevlar. This is a direct- no one's hearing but you and Mare, unless you have an invisible criminal in the back," Charlie drawled. When nothing was happening, he could take the time to talk.

"No, just speeders today, Chuck." Mare yawned, obviously displeased. Chasing speeders hardly did anyone any good.

"Just- look out, rookie. The old boys here don't like anyone that isn't their pick for hire. You beat out Sal Herd's kid. He's a wuss, but they're still mad."

"Thanks for the heads up."

"Anytime. Mare hasn't kicked you out of the car yet- you're a good guy."

"She isn't _that _bad."

"Mare! You're losing your touch!" Charlie feigned shock.

"Charlie, you know as well as I do that Vic has a previous record. You're the biggest gossip in the department- you put old housewives to shame."

"The hero gig, right? No one gets that. No offense, Vic, but you can get away with hero, but superheroes usually need something out of the ordinary."

Vic smiled, not that Charlie could see. "Well, let's just say I'm good at being your average human. I wanted to go incognito."

"You sound like you have a dictionary in your head sometimes, partner."

"When I need one, I do," Victor said.

"And an entire encyclopedia, I assume?"

"Of course. The police handbook is a new addition. I have a few dozen terabytes of memory."

"I don't speak tech." Charlie's voice crackled in the radio. "I just work it. Vic, I'm now calling you when the radio goes nuts again. It happens every so often."

"Fine with me. I would get consultant's pay?"

Mare clapped him on the shoulder, ignoring the clang of metal when her ring hit a part of his shoulder. "Rookie, you're catching on already."

* * *

Five minutes before Vic's first shift as a police officer ended, Charlie was on the radio, and not for a friendly welcome-the-new-guy-chat. "Car 182, we have a triple 672 near your current location. Close off crime scene- car 018 is taking inside. Go to Parks and Cleveland, house number 8241." 

"672?" Vic asked as Mare made a very fast and very illegal u-turn.

"We've changed police codes," she said grimly. "Radio-scanning thrill-chasers know all the old ones. 672's a murder involving the victims no one wants to see- well, victims worse than carved-up gang bangers. Women assumed to not be street-walkers, children, respectable men- they usually aren't armed."

"Charlie, 182 on the way. Further backup requested, as rookie is on board. Repeat, first-timer in the car. We'll take perimeter," she said into the radio, voice pitched to carry without interference.

"I've seen bad stuff before."

"Not on my watch, rookie. You're getting eased in. Going in too fast brings up the suicide rate. Police officers don't mess up suicide. Female civilians use pills, slitting wrists, heads in ovens- male civilians usually miss with guns or use car exhaust. Cops use their guns, and cops don't miss." Obviously, she wasn't budging on the point. He would be seeing action soon enough.

"What's perimeter?" he asked.

"Putting up caution tape, keeping away spectators, and using the policeman's litany. 'Move along, folks, nothing to see here!' You'll be doing that. No one's going to listen, but your size alone should help you out there. People think much more of a burly man than little old me. That's life." She pulled in front of a quiet suburban home, the kind with petunias in window-boxes and a jump-rope left lying on the lawn. "Let's move."

* * *

"You survived, rookie. I'm impressed." 

Vic was sitting just outside of Charlie's dispatch booth. More than one officer couldn't fit inside at the same time, with all the added equipment to try disconnecting eavesdroppers. "Why is everyone so surprised?"

Charlie snorted. "Mare is the toughest on rookies in the department. You went on a crime scene with her, on your first _day_ in the squad car. She didn't drag you in to see Chief. When she told you to string up the tape, not peek, and keep the neighbors back, you listened."

"Was I not supposed to?"

"Everyone else in here would have looked."

He shrugged. "I've seen enough dead bodies to last me a long while."

"You're something else, Vic. Better rookie than I ever was," Charlie said with a wide grin. "I liked a few not-so-practical jokes that my partner didn't appreciate."

"Who was your partner?"

"Mare, before she lost Don. She was the toughest cop you'd ever hope to meet, and dragged me in with Chief twice a week when I was doing a good job. She's the only reason I'm still alive. Her way of showing you the ropes is rough, but it'll keep you alive."

Vic looked at his ring, one seemingly innocuous class ring any adult could have. It was gold with a blue stone, and didn't really catch the eye as unusual. TITANS was carved into one side. On the other was a familiar figure carved in relief, labeled CYBORG. All Titans had a ring- his just had programming inside. The others had similar styles, but different colors. Beast Boy's was green, Robin's violet, Starfire's orange, and Robin's red.

"You'll need to go see Personnel before you leave to get the full uniform set. Mare's big on hygiene, and will not be above dragging you to the Laundromat while off-duty to show the _proper _way to wash clothes."

"I'll keep that in mind," Vic promised. About to leave, he noticed Jenny at his side. Apparently he would not need to stop by Personnel- Personnel was coming to him. He hadn't even heard her approach, even with cybernetic senses.

"Your uniform's ready, Officer Stone." Jen was carrying a box almost larger than her tiny frame. Standing next to a seated Vic, the five foot two inch secretary (if you were generous with the yardstick) was even smaller.

"Vic. You call me Vic, or I call you Ms. Wilkinson."

"Vic, then. Here's your uniform. You're on the work schedule tomorrow for 1800 hours to midnight. Your overtime for the 672 is on record- Charlie helps me keep track."

"Thanks," he said sincerely. Pay and salary were new to him- at least she knew what she was doing.

She granted him a quick-silver smile. "You're part of the family now- no problem, Vic. I'll see you around."

Charlie had been listening in, but waited until a certain secretary was definitely out of earshot before speaking. "Vic, that is the most I've ever heard her say. What was that, seven sentences? I'm not being facetious. The girl hardly ever says three words in a row."

"Chief said about the same thing."

"He always knows. He knew that Kaitlin and I would get along. She's in accounting on the other side of the building. We've been married for eight months. Back to Jenny, though- I saw, and Renee noticed, that Jenny had all your things together this morning."

"Just how many people have match-maker style assumptions running through their minds?"

"All the good ones. Alex as in Alexandra- call her by her full name if you want to be singing soprano, her partner Kemosabe, the least talkative man you'll ever hope to meet ever since some dealer hopped up on meth shot his partner with no warning, Renee- chief investigator around here after she finally got that promotion, but she's another who wouldn't take a title for a million dollars, and her partner Harvey- he's the person to see about donuts, no matter what Mare says."

"No one's told Jenny, though?"

"Not yet, but you have a week. Kemosabe hardly ever says a thing, but he'll drop a three-word hint for Jenny. The two of them say about five words total in a conversation, and act like they got tons out of it. Alex is his partner, and she can only keep him in check for so long."

"If they tell, I'll. . . well, as long as I have a week, it won't be an issue. I'll ask her when I'm at least a few days old around here." Victor was still a little overwhelmed by the atmosphere.

"Detective Anderson wanted to talk to you about the 672, but she had to leave. She's married to Bruce Wayne's heir, the Grayson kid, and went to some benefit with him. She'll meet you tomorrow before your shift. She has something stranger than the perp to talk to you about, apparently." Charlie paused, remembering something. "Look, just one thing- don't say anything about her skin. She's a bit sensitive."

"Why would I say anything about skin?" Vic asked skeptically.

"Well, she's kind of orange. Current gossip leans towards really bad permanent self-tanning accident gone drastically wrong." Charlie didn't want to see any surprisesthat resulted inhurt feelings.

"Orange?"

"I know that's a little unusual, but-"

"Kori Anderson?"

"That's her name. She's from some European country or other I've never heard anyone else talk about or look up online. She's a Tamat- Tamerat-"

"Tamaranean. She's an old friend." He caught a knowing look. "Not _that _kind of friend. She was always interested in someone else, I was usually messing around with computers or robotics."

"Well, she'll be in her office before your shift begins." Charlie grinned when he saw the signs of a stifled yawn. "You're exhausted. You should be. Go home, get some rest, recover from your first day. I'll only be lonely until someone else comes along."

"Tomorrow, then?"

"Go on, you. The detective will track you down if you don't stop by. Renee's passed her a few cases. Kori's a desk-detective. She looks at things from some weird and completely nuts perspective. She only has one unsolved crime on her record- Mare's partner. He can't say a thing still, but Mare and brain scans say there's someone in there."

"Is that when she got tough?"

"That's when she got tougher."

Vic had a final question. "Aren't guys supposed to converse in grunts and sports anecdotes?"

"Not cops, Vic. If cops don't talk, they think too much. They think too much, they get blown away, by the crooks or by themselves. If you ever need to talk, call me, Mare, Renee- even Kemosabe. If you don't want to, call this number." Charlie palmed him a business card with generic gray printing. "Cops need to talk, Vic, even if it's just to some mystery on the other end of a phone line. Keep your friends close, too; you'll need them."

"Well, that's cheerful."

Charlie shrugged. "That's life as a cop, Vic. Dreary, lonely, frustrating- but it's still the right thing to do." He grinned. "Now that we've gotten the requisite philosophical talk out of the way, I'll continue rivaling Jenny for knowing everything about everyone. She'll win by a long shot, as always, but a guy can try."

"You do that, Charlie."

"You bet I will." Charlie withdrew into his maze of wires and switches and information screens, and Vic carried his uniform from the crowded station out to his car. For the first time, he thought that becoming a cop wouldn't just be some work of dreamlike fiction. He would do this.


	4. The One Date Wonder

"Vic Stone?" Kori asked without looking up from a spread of papers that covered an entire break-room table.

"That's me."

"I have a few- _Cyborg?" _She'd forgotten his alias.

"Yeah, it's me, and a hologram ring. All the other officers know is that I was a superhero, have an online correspondence associate's in Criminal Justice, and am one of three new-hire rookies," Victor said, slipping the ring off for a second. Her door was closed, and Kori wouldn't tell.

"Why didn't you tell us? Raven called everyone about being a _pro bono _attorney when she passed the bar exam, and just won her first rape prosecution case yesterday. Gar took her out to eat. She was so pleased with herself that she didn't even tease him about meat. And here you are, a full officer without dropping friends a word." Kori was more pleased than indignant, and he knew it.

"I wanted to make sure I could get a job. This is all-human achievements. The chief knows, and my partner has the general idea, and another girl knows but won't tell."

"Jenny?"

"Does everyone know her?"

"Yes. Jenny's in charge of payroll, accounting, hours, scheduling, sick leave, vacations, and knows everything about everyone. She wouldn't tell a secret for anything, but has enough to blackmail anyone in this department. She's too sweet for that, though."

"About the case- sorry to stop our talk, but I was wondering."

"Not a single lead. Three people dead- one woman, confirmed owner of the house, and her current boyfriend who was spending the day were killed by someone wielding a gun. The gunner took nothing, just shot them. From what forensics said, he started walking out when someone else came in and stabbed him. The killer had a single stab wound to the hollow behind the ear, delivered by a sharp blade. That blow would have been deadly. Poison coating the dagger made sure he wasn't about to walk away- she wanted to make sure he died."

"She?"

"Assassins using pressures points and poison are usually female. Tracks in the pile carpet show that she was wearing shoes sold for females. Unless we have a drag-queen poisoner going against all accepted conjectures, we have an athletic short woman- the angle of the stab was upwards. Anyone taller than five foot five would have stabbed straight."

"Great. So, we're looking for a short woman?"

"Basically."

"Do I even need to be here?" Victor asked.

"I bounce ideas off all police witnesses not suspected. You and Mare aren't even part of the radar. Even if you were, she's too tall and you're too big. Besides, Mare isn't the type for tricky jobs like pressure points and poison. She'd just pull out her station-issue."

She didn't need his help, but he could use hers. "Kori, Charlie said half the station's trying to place me with Jenny. What do you think? Should I ask her out?"

"Vic, let me fill you in on the history of Jenny Wilkinson. She's known as the One-Date Wonder. She goes on a date, is completely upbeat, her usual quiet self, and never even pulls the 'bathroom' classic. At precisely twenty past nine, she calls a cab, thanks her date for a great night, goes home, and comes back to work the next day without a hint showing if she really did have a great time. She's never accepted a second date, and only one guy's ever claimed a kiss without Jenny refuting the claim, Kemosabe's old partner." She didn't have to add that the man was dead. Everyone learned lessons in history quickly. Gotham was not a nice place.

"So, no one was going to tell me this?"

"They didn't know what you'd do if you knew the whole story." She paused, trying to word it the right way. "Vic, you're a nice guy. She's a nice girl that everyone wants to see smiling when no one's looking instead of frowning. She expects to be asked out, it seems, if the new rookie's single. It's as much of a rite of passage for the guys as getting chewed out by Mare- she doesn't care whose partner you are."

"Well, what number am I?"

"Since she came here fresh out of high school with a typing certificate and management classes? Forty-seven."

"Wish me luck- I'll ask her today."

"Break a leg."

"Why do actors say that?"

"Wishing luck is worse than a jinx. Ill-wishing is lucky. That, and all jobs need their own little quirks. It makes them interesting," Kori said. "Well- this job doesn't need help."

"Quirks. Kori, I hardly recognize you. What happened to the too-cheerful girl as challenged in Syntax as Yoda?"

"She grew up, Vic. So did you, Mr. I'm-Half-Machine-so-I-must-be-Macho. Go on, ask her. She likes nice restaurants that aren't too fancy, prefers forget-me-nots to roses, and is very Irish, in case the red hair didn't give you a good guess."

"Kori, you're a lifesaver."

"I know. So are you - when it doesn't involve relationships or picking a time. She's off work at 1700 hours today. Give her an hour. Short a circuit!" she joked.

"Don't remind me," he grumbled through a smile. It was hard enough to ask someone out without any technological difficulties, and when he shorted a circuit, interesting and supremely embarrassing things started happening. Luckily, he had convinced (well, really threatened to pummel until he was more purple than Raven's hair) Gar to destroy all records of the time he had gone to the Mall of Shopping with Starfire during a glitch. In the wrong hands, that could be really bad. Even in 'right' hands, it wasn't fun.

* * *

"Jenny? Do you have a minute?" 

"Sure, I'd love to go out with you."

"If you're too busy now, I can come back lat- you just answered my question. I haven't even gotten to it yet."

She shrugged. "All new guys ask. One new woman did, but I don't swing that way. As you have your uniform, pay comes out every other Friday, you haven't earned paid leave, and from talk, Mare actually likes you and hasn't called you a waste of a perfectly good pair of shoes, you won't be asking for a partner reassignment." She was still typing, keys rattling beneath her fingers.

"Am I that obvious?"

"Sorry to burst your ego, if you're Mr. Suave, but you're obvious to me."

"Six? I'll pick you up."

"You trust a car in Gotham? You see the psychos on the road, the carjackers, the many illegal parking jobs- and that's not even counting big-name criminals."

"I have good security measures, on and off road, and the parking lot outside O'Malley's is well lit, in a nice neighborhood, and is a usual gather spot for cabbies who make fares picking up drunks. No waiting when the substitute for midnight strikes- one will be right there."

"You've done your research."

"Actually, Kori told me. When I was in the . . . group I mentioned during the meeting, she was a teammate."

"Detective Anderson?"

"Yes."

"Figures. She's too nice for her own good."

"If she wasn't so sweet, she'd be bitter. Her sister's proof of that, a real piece of work."

"Here's my address." She handed him a slip of paper written in perfectly neat cursive that belonged in calligraphy class. "Two blocks west of the station. Six?"

"Six," he confirmed, feeling like she had planned everything when she opened a worn datebook. "Victor Stone- 1800." That was all she wrote.

"Jenny?"

"Yes?"

"Why do you do this?"

"I reserve the right to remain silent. Anything I say will be used against me."

"Never in my court, Miranda. Your serve."

"Allusive, are we?" She smiled, but didn't look away from her glowing screen as she typed yet another memo.

"Will you ever answer the question? For anyone?"

Her smile turned sad. "I don't know, Vic. I just don't know." She didn't say which question she was answering.

"Tonight?"

"Tonight. Six." She shifted paperwork, dismissing him. The One-Date Wonder had doctor's physicals to go through, and her motives. She just might never sort through the latter, but the former would be done before 1630. She always could keep on task, a talent and something that resulted in very boring days.

* * *

The door opened before he could knock. She stepped outside and had the door closed before he could offer forget-me-nots. She accepted them, opening her door again to deposit them on an end table. Her first-floor apartment was dark, giving no sign of the inside. 

"Someone really did his homework," she remarked.

"I try."

"Don't open or close doors for me. It's nothing personal. The last time someone did that, I had to take a half-day off work to see the doctor about a fractured ankle."

"Point taken, even if I've never slammed a door on anyone." She wasn't listening.

"That's your car?"

"Yeah. She's completely custom, all maximum-quality. No chrome rims- they only lessen engine efficiency. Seats five comfortably, fully reclining seats in case of invasive maneuvers, and five cup holders- as many as there are people, so I don't have fights."

"Engine?" She found the hair-catch, guaranteed thief-proof and only able to be opened by key or remote. She sprang the hood open and looked into the mess of metal. "I don't know complete detail, but I see twelve cylinders, an obscene amount of horsepower, and- is that a rocket booster?"

"This baby outperforms any villain's car, and I've been working on a race against the Batmobile, but the guy won't loosen up enough to resort to childish games. I beat an old enemy last year, and this will officially leave Gizmo in the dust."

"She'll do. You can take care of this car, you can check your Crown Victoria for flaws. What do you think about the fuel tank?" She let herself into the T-car, finished with her brief inspection.

"There is no good place for it. Crown Vics are not made for high-speed chases. This baby is."

"Where would you put the tank in a Crown Vic?"

"I wouldn't use a tank. I'd choose hydrogen fuel cells. They work better, run cleaner, don't need refills, and won't explode in a crash, when engineered right. Besides, a vegan friend of mine has been pushing them. I agree with him about fuel."

A fast debate about petroleum took them to the restaurant. Vic's driving was as mind-numbingly legal as possible. He was a cop. He might was as well set a good example- when someone was watching.

"This is the new Irish pub, isn't it?" she asked, realizing O'Malley's was the restaurant she had wanted to try out.

"They have a grand-opening special. Corned beef, cabbage, potatoes, Irish draft."

"Sounds good. Driving home drunk, are you?"

"I don't get drunk- liver replacement, more effective than any human liver. I never compete in drinking contests. Anyone facing me would get hurt."

"I'll take a glass, two at the most." She was a few eighths of an inch above five foot two. She was skinny. Two glasses would be more than enough alcohol.

"Party of two? Smoking or non?" the hostess asked. "All smokers will be seated outside."

"Two, non, and two specials."

"Right this way."

* * *

"How Irish are you?" 

"Full-blooded. Don't let the Wilkinson fool you."

"Catholic or Protestant?"

"Catholic. My grandpa will still mutter about fetching his gun when he sees orange, and thinks that inmates in orange jumpsuits are Protestant target practice."

"Is Baptist bad?"

"You're Catholic, an evil Protestant, or just ignorant, in his view. In mine- I've dated all kinds. One guy was even a Satanist- he was an interesting fellow."

"When did you start at the station?"

"Fresh out of high school- I took a typing and a management class. The police had an opening, and most local businessmen hiring were kind of sleazy."

"When did this start?" Victor asked.

She knew what he meant. "The second week at the station, a guy had asked me out twelve times. I told him nothing would happen. We went to dinner, we talked, I went home. I never have found the need to change."

She ate as quickly as he did. It was only eight to seven- the time she usually left was far away. "Do you want to go see a movie?" he asked. "I can drive you there, the theatre also has taxi services, everything's on me. Money's no issue- early inheritance."

"No one's ever asked me that before." She thought for a second before remembering that he was waiting for an answer. "Sure."

"Any movie preferences?"

She smiled. "The old-run theatre. A nicer seat, less scum, better popcorn, and one of this week's movies is especially appropriate."

"Which movie would that be?"

Her smile only grew wider. "You'll see."


	5. Old Partner, Old Friends

"So, you and Jenny went for a date." Mare didn't even wait for Vic to shut his door after he climbed into 182. "Jenny didn't X out your name in the datebook. You didn't try convincing her to go home with you. How did it go?"

"It went well, I suppose. You really can't tell with Jenny."

"Where did you go for dinner?" Mare asked as she whipped out of the garage, far closer to the support beam on the passenger side than absolutely necessary.

"O'Malley's."

"Did you stay until she was in a cab?"

"She left the restaurant with me. She chose a movie after I offered. About the movie- I have to level with you, Mare." He was fiddling with his ring, a nervous habit. "About why the chief said I don't need bullet-proof."

"Steel plates?"

No one was nearby- they were guarding an abandoned warehouse until forensics arrived to test a years-old murder scene. He pulled off the ring. "Jenny decided we should see Robocop."

Mare was surprised, but she got over it. That was her usual reaction to life. "That was unexpected. Well, I believe you more now. I'm all for being open, but cops are firm believers in old-school tradition. Staying as fully skin might help them out."

"As opposed to robot?"

"I found the one person to beat Atlas, or at least to have his success published in a Jump City police byline. Cyborg- no picture, but described the victor as half-machine, mind all human. At least, that's what a friend of yours wrote in a press release."

"That would be me."

She grinned. "I'll tell Don- he was a fan. He said it was about time a techie wasn't a complete dweeb."

"Don?" he asked cautiously. He had heard about Mare's partner in passing, but no one had given any real detail.

"My old partner, close to being my second husband. I divorced my first husband years ago, and he's still doing time for what he did to my little girl- she isn't his any more. Don made the arrest. The department thought this was best to keep this between partners, and I did have the suspect under control." Mare had decided that locked in the closet, empty except for a few mothballs while she was waiting for paint on the walls to dry, the man wouldn't raise any trouble. "I locked him in the broom closet."

"Where's Don?"

"Paralyzed from the neck down, can't talk, takes too much out of him for yes/no blinking or going through the alphabet."

"His brain's alive, right?"

"The doctors say so, and I agree."

"I could call in a friend. She's an empath, and a bit of telepathy wouldn't be past her reach." He held out the ring, showing the Teen Titans insignia. "She was a Titan- Raven Roth, our resident Goth, as people called her. She was just shy, really."

"A few people in the department followed her. A few pegged her to end up with the leader, but the two are too similar. They'd end up obsessive and apart after a year- our guesses are always on. We can tell how anything will end up, except our own marriages. Charlie's might be on the rocks- everyone's looking out for him, and watching her." Mare remembered what she had wanted to get at, besides explaining office dynamics. "Would she bring Beast Boy? He saved Don's life, lifted a car off him after Slade went through. That's the only reason he's alive."

"I'll ask. She's a lawyer. Courts aren't open Sundays, so she usually can go around helping out if needed. She just finished a case, and Gar can leave the vet practice to the other partners. We're all off tomorrow- I'll call her."

"Would you?"

"Any time, partner."

* * *

Vic thought it very odd to see Mare out of uniform after four days in her cruiser. She was wearing worn jeans and rough tennis shoes, very unlike regulation creased black pants and shined Oxfords without a single scuff mark. She looked less threatening without her flint-hard police face, and the lack of a holster could have helped this image. 

"Your friends are here?"

"She'll be here in a minute." He tapped his wrist. "Communicator. We all still have them- they're much better than cell phones. They have tracking devices, just in case old enemies come calling and we can't give directions."

"This is the room." She steeled herself before entering room 547 of the Convalescents Ward.

He could see why. Trooper (no one ever had suggested revoking the title) Don Shanahan was hooked up to enough machines that even Vic felt uncomfortable. At least his machines didn't take up half of a hospital room. Don stared directly ahead, but focused briefly on Mare and Vic.

"Hey, Don. I've heard a lot about you." Vic touched Don's hand, the closest the many tethers to keep machines in place would allow to a handshake.

"It's Sunday, Don, so time for the long visit. My kids are still at college. Gwen's in medicine, and Laurel's going into law. Laurel won the debate at schoolabout denying parole to child predators, without even going into personal details. I know I've told you all about the kids, but Vic hasn't heard all the details yet. Laurel's in a new support group, and her new boyfriend has survived lectures from everyone."

"Are you sure this is the right way?" a faint voice in the hall asked. "I think we should have taken a left."

"Remember what happened last time you gave directions, Gar? To your honors banquet for that college program? I ended up at a strip club. You're lucky I didn't even go into the parking lot."

"Raven, that wasn't completely my fault."

"Why did you have directions to the place, then?"

"Someone put it on my desk when I asked for directions. The guy next to me that got directions to a banquet hall was just as mad."

"If I didn't know you were telling the truth, I'd call you a liar, and we are going the right way."

"547! Here it is!"

"Told you so," Raven said as she knocked quietly before pushing the door open when no one yelled for her to go away. "Hey, Vic. Introductions?"

"Raven, Gar, meet Mare and Don. Don and Mare, Raven and Gar."

"Is he always this thorough?" Mare asked dryly.

"Just about." Raven focused on Don, already forgetting her previous comment. "Definitely brain activity. He can hear us, understand us, and come up with responses."

"Don, how do you feel? Really?"

"Fit as a fiddle that got run over by a semi," Raven translated. No one else understood thoughts that weren't their own. "He says you worry too much, he loves you, he's glad the bastard is in prison, and that if Vic lets you get hurt, he- Don- will have a replacement for hospital stays."

"Never, reciprocated, I am too, and don't threaten my partner." Vic was about to add some comment of his own before she continued. "That's my job."

"Thanks, Mare."

"Trust me- it's my job," Mare told Don and Vic.

"I never really did threaten him, so I don't have a claim. Gar here- I think I threatened him more than he ate tofu while we were in the tower."

"Am I the only one here who has no idea what's going on?" Gar asked.

"Yes," Mare, Vic, Raven, and even Don chorused, though only Raven heard the last.

"Who did this?" Raven asked, again distracted with the injuries.

"Slade," Cyborg, Marie, and Don said at once.

"This could get old fast," Raven said, not realizing for a moment that Gar was speaking at the same time. He continued alone.

"But- Slade?Scary half-face apprentice-obsessed seriously evil Slade?"

"Yes. Don was my partner when I drove to Jump City to help out police there. Slade didn't mind that I shot him in the upper left torso, what should have been a direct hit to the heart- I doubt the bullet even touched him. He threw our cruiser on top of Don. Gar took it off less than a minute later- that's the only reason Don's still alive. I-"

"Went a bit mad," Raven supplied when Mare trailed off. "I remember you- you were ready to take out an entire army of Sladebots to get to him. Starfire could barely hold you back, and Cyborg had to cover the 'bots behind you. We thought your partner didn't pull through."

"He did, but he's still completely paralyzed. He can't move a thing below his neck, even after about four years of continuous physical therapy."

"That can be fixed," Raven decided. "Gar, don't give me that look. I _know _using powers wears me out, but I'm off for a week- all that's next is sentencing. I have a speech written up, my client's ready to speak, and the judge has a history of being harsh."

"You mean- you could-"

"Heal him, Mare. That's the part of my power I still use occasionally. Vic, could you loop the machines in here for- two hours? No one comes in here, you all wait outside, and no mentioning what I did to the media- I can't help everyone, but I could never turn anyone down." She knew her limits, after a fateful battle with her father. She had tied nearly all her power into keeping all demons from entering the living world, and had barely any left. Unlimited requests for a miracle would kill her. It was ironic that a half-demon could be called a miracle worker, but irony and sarcasm had always been her forte.

"Done." Vic had pulled a cord from a human-looking wrist, then tapped a series of raised keys invisible on a dark forearm. He removed monitors, and the beeping stopped to let Don's shallow breathing be audible.

White magic flowed from Raven's cupped hands. The black influence had been her father's, and she no longer had the destructive powers she had bound. She didn't mind. She was still a healer, but her human half limited her stamina for doing magic. Closing the door with a gesture behind the others, she went to work.

* * *

Just a minute short of two hours later, Raven staggered from the room. Gar caught her, resigned to Raven's insistence ontoying with her limits. She had sometimes come close to killing herself, as in with the case of a little girl in a car accident. Raven had been in a coma for two days. Today, she was just tired. 

"Brain injuries are hard. He's healed, but he'll start moving at his own pace. The therapy kept muscles pretty decent, but he won't be jumping up and tap-dancing any time soon. The doctors will be freaked, but they can deal with it. Keep the press out of it as much as possible, or he'll never have quiet again."

"He's better. You mean it, don't you?"

"He's healed- it's easy, healing someone who wants to get better that bad. His mind isn't at all hurt. He's sleeping. I think he has a chance of even walking, if he puts his mind to it. He's very. . . persistent."

"He's as stubborn as I am. Thank you. I'll never be able to say it enough."

"It's my pleasure. I like helping out. Warm fuzzies and all," she said, sounding the slightest bit delirious. "Besides, Gar looks cute when's he's all flustered." Raven giggled. Cyborg blanched. Gar only double-checked that his arm around her back would keep her from falling over.

"This happens about every time. She won't say it, and probably will invite you both to dinner, but she needs to sleep for about- what's the usual, twenty hours? I'll just drive us home. I'll call you later, Vic. Nice meeting you, Mare. Come on, Raven- we're leaving," he coaxed. When tired past exhaustion, Raven rarely listened to more than a few sentences, drifting off to sleep even as she leaned against him.

"No worse than you and your hangovers, Garfield. You take twenty-two hours, and that's after light drinking," she said severely through a moment of lucidity.

Vic smirked as they walked down the hall. Who would have thought? Raven I'll-break-your-face the untouchable Goth, and happy-go-lucky Gar, full of horrible jokes. His friends looked like an old married couple, even if they weren't even engaged. For a second, before he went back into the beige hospital room to restart monitors and IVs Raven had slipped back into place, he was jealous. An Irish girl came to mind when harboring envious thoughts, but he tried to delete the thought. The quick process usually worked, but not for the One-Date Wonder. He was wondering, that was sure.


	6. Investigating

Vic stopped in the station after leaving the hospital. Mare was sitting in for a while. Don was sleeping, but there was the distinct possibility that he would wake up and really be able to do something. She had assigned Vic the task of telling Charlie what was going on, so all the gossip could be firmly placed by the time she reported for work the next day. No one was especially surprised to see an off-duty cop stopping in to see Charlie.

Charlie listened to the entire story before saying a word. "You mean that some unknown ex-superhero just did this, and doesn't want any publicity? Is this some kind of scam?"

"No. She- I know her, but she can't have her name thrown around. I've met her before, and she agreed to help when she heard about Don. She can't turn any cases down, but doing this kind of work exhausts her. She took no money, no favors- simply something she likes to do for an old friend."

"Tell me the name. No one else will hear, but I at least need to know this is legit before passing a story around."

"Raven of the Teen Titans."

"The demon girl?" Charlie could hardly believe it. "No, don't take this the wrong way. Kaitlin's nearly obsessed with her friend, Sunfire."

Vic nearly broke his calm front and laughed out loud when he saw Kori passing. Charlie didn't catch a very pointed glare from a redhead. "Well, it happened. Don won't be doing back-flips for a while, but he should be talking by next Tuesday, by all projections."

Charlie was about to ask some other question Vic would have to scramble to answer when he was interrupted by Alex(andra under pain of death) Sanchez and her partner's arrival. Kemosabe always looked like he had just swallowed a bitter lemon. He usually didn't glower, however. And Alex never had a problem speaking her mind. Something was wrong.

"Charlie, I'm sorry. I- I don't know what to do- I can't put this right- this hasn't ever-"

Kemosabe put a hand on her shoulder, comforting as only a partner can. "It's Kaitlin. She and the celebrated Officer Adam Smith were found having sex on the spare paper, and have been for some number of months, if the amount of debris is any indication." Only he would be that blunt- he was less diplomatic than Mare.

Charlie stared at his left ring finger, completely lost. The ring was there, but Kaitlin was gone. He had guessed, had harbored dim suspicions, but never would have guessed a fellow cop. He knew where that cabinet was. They were fifteen yards from the dispatch booth. He picked up a phone, paging Accounting. She picked up.

"Charlie, I-"

"Keep furnishings you bought, I own the apartment and have for longer than I even dated you." He sounded wooden, even after Alex nudged him in an attempt to find Charlie in the forced movements and words. "You have until 2400 hours tonight. I'll stay with a friend."

"But it wasn't anything, baby."

Charlie's face didn't change as he looked at the phone, the green speakerphone indicator gleaming brightly. "Neither was I, Kaitlin. One uniform's as good as another, it seems. I'll ask Jenny to fax you divorce papers. I told you I wouldn't stay after cheating. Monogamy isn't that much of a sacrifice. If it is, there won't be any reason."

"Chuck, you were at work. You never appreciated me. You never loved me."

"Whenever I tried, you had somewhere to go. Tell Adam your problems. This isn't about what I did or didn't do, Kaitlin. You never said a word. You slept around. This is your problem." Charlie disconnected.

"Charlie? When are you off?" Alex asked.

"Ten minutes."

"We're all going out," Alex decided. Vic and Kemosabe agreed. "Get your mind off her- that's the only way."

"You can stay at my place- I have the ever popular sleeper sofa," Kemosabe offered.

"I think I'll do that," Charlie said. His replacement was there early. She took the controls without a word, giving him a hug that was completely sympathetic. Marcia, who called herself the second-best dispatch in Gotham, had been cheated on the year before. She understood.

Vic ended up staying out about all night with the three cops. By the time Charlie had talked himself out and remembered all the times Kaitlin had made him miserable, Vic knew he had to get home. He was working the next day, and shifts with Mare weren't to be taken lightly. The others agreed unanimously. Mare was dangerous to those who showed up late. No one told him exactly how, but he had the feeling he didn't want to be told.

* * *

"Vic, before you start out your shift, Detective Anderson wanted to speak with you." Jenny didn't look up, as usual, but knew who had stopped at her desk without looking at anything more than a glimpse of uniform. "The autopsy results and forensic reports finally are together." 

"Jenny, I've never seen that movie before. I really enjoyed it." Usually, he was making some outrageous comment at this point that always would fly. With a mild secretary, he was reduced to awkward clichés worthy of a C movie.

"Mm hmm. She's staying after her shift, so you should get moving. Kori has an office as of this morning- promotion. Third door on your left after the break room."

"The Mona Lisa has nothing on you, Jenny. At least historians can try venturing a guess. Are you proving something to someone?"

"No."

"Well, if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me. Call me; the number in my profile will always reach me, if I'm on. If that number doesn't go through, a date's probably out of the question." If that phone number didn't go through . . . he didn't want to think about what happened if all systems failed.

"If I can't reach you, something's wrong with me."

"You do know what I mean, Jenny. That takes power from the same source as a bionic lung, heart, several vital organs, and all upgraded systems."

"So, if I ever decided to call you and you don't answer, assume the worst?"

"Pretty much, yeah." He felt that he had missed something, but couldn't for the life of him find what she had extracted.

"Melodramatics. Go on, now, talk to Kori. Mare will have your tail if you're late for duty."

"I don't have a tail," he said as he left for Kori's new office, trying to have the last word and betting he wouldn't. When Mare was concerned, even just from the mention of her, he never did seem to have such a thing.

"She won't mind- she'll find something. You don't want to know what she did to one partner. Just . . . never promise to do her a favor without knowing what she wants."

"What did she do?"

Jenny only went back to her paperwork. "You don't want to know."

* * *

"We have a very bizarre story here, not completely pieced together." Kori went directly to business, where most people would say "hello." She had no time to waste, was technically done with her shift in Internal Investigations, and had dinner scheduled with Dick in about an hour. 

"Let's hear it."

"Vic, you and Mare have investigational priority on the case. There is a chance of bias, but we want people who know what they're up against. We need field officers that can have that, even if you are a rookie."

"What are we dealing with?"

"At the scene, we had three dead people. The one killed by the unknown perpetrator died by the same blade to kill a string of people. There is only one common thread- all, at some point in their lives, worked for Slade or were working for him. The woman strategically follows a target for hours before making her hit."

"So, we need to find an assassin."

"She's a vigilante."

"There's a difference?"

"She gets nothing. She doesn't like killing, by all patterns, doesn't want attention, and is sane, by estimates from all experts. She's like Batman, or-" she paused for a moment- "Nightwing, but with far more extreme methods. She would be overpowered by her victims, and has no superpowers or technology that has been shown. There is a key difference- she will take no credit or send anyone to jail. She just kills."

"How do we find her?"

Kori threw a stack of papers aside, ruining the relative neatness of her new office, the size of the average broom closet. "I have no idea, Vic. Just- watch for her. I've organized a stakeout that may or may not work, where we think one of Slade's bomb producers will be. She's a little under five and a half feet, built light, decent with technology, hand-to-hand, and disappearing, if past cases are any example."

"So, she could be about anyone."

"Exactly. She isn't in legal trouble- actually, she's classified as a vigilante. She focuses only on one criminal, and Renee actually talked to Batman about her. He went to Oracle- Oracle keeps getting beat to the scene by the girl. They gave her a tentative okay, so Batman isn't kicking her out of Gotham. Still, she knows things before Oracle." Kori still couldn't believe it.

"I'm guessing that's unusual?"

"Extremely. She's the only person in Gotham to beat Charlie to the source. We've looked around the department. We have three dispatches- one's too junior to get anything but the easiest shifts with one of the most trusted holding his hand, Marcia checks out, and Charlie would vouch for either of them."

"Radio scanners?"

"It's inside. She knows before Charlie can even say anything on the radio."

"So, it could be anyone?"

"Any average-height female, yes. Mare's too tall, and that goes for me, too. One guy went as far as to accuse Renee Montoya." From Kori's tone, this was unthinkable. In her opinion, such troopers shouldn't be allowed near the senior detective. "The last guy to challenge her was out cold when I tapped him on the shoulder." That wasn't bragging. That was the truth. Kori tried to hold back a little, but it was difficult. "So, there's two less to look through. She's not carrying a gun- she's been shot at, almost hit, from what we gather, and she didn't return fire. She's either throwing us off or unarmed."

"You know when I got this job, I thought I'd be a typical rookie."

"Vic, let me put this the way it should be. You're half robot. You were one of five teenage superheroes. You have a partner who personally tangled with Slade and is as mad at the villain as Dick, and that's saying something. You're talking to an alien. Atypical doesn't even begin to cover your life."

"Just one question- is there any surveillance of her?"

"Just two. One's grainy black-and-white, and her hair doesn't show up as anything. She's pretty pale, if that helps- besides her height, that's all the feed gave. The second shows her in color and the new uniform; full-body unitard, boots, gloves, a full-face mask, and a hair-cover."

"All we have is that she's short and white?"

"She could be Asian, too- anything, if she's into disguise. Don't rule out anyone- except, Mare would tell us if she did it, and orange skin is really hard to conceal. One more thing- the vigilante goes by Morrigan. It was engraved on a knife left on the scene after a hasty escape. Jenny tried running matches- all she gets is that it's a last name of Welsh or Gaelic origin."

"Why am I hearing all this today?"

"We're guessing her next target. Nightwing gave us the lead, through Oracle- something she found herself, not through the contacts she has. Me and you and Mare know- he'll release a tip about Slade's accomplice in just about an hour. You and Mare will be there."

"Got it. I'm on my way."

"Don't be late."

"I keep hearing that."

"We feel obligated to warn rookies- Mare is on time, or else."

"Or else what?"

Kori just shook her head and nudged him out of her cramped office. He crashed into the wall at a high velocity- both he and the wall held. The department was used to displays of inhuman strength, and her surroundings mirrored that.

"Sorry!"

"I'm used to it by now, Kori. It's like the whole Superman thing- you're probably used to some higher gravity, so here, your muscles are much more efficient. Just- get the room to stop spinning and my circuits to stop spouting unneeded facts like that, and I'll be fine."


	7. The Question

"You know, stake-outs in movies never take this long." Vic had been ready to jump from the squad car for three hours. They were sitting outside a greasy apartment. Neither liked the neighborhood, but it was where the predicted next victim of Morrigan would be.

"I know. Keep scanning. What do you have going?"

"Heat, motion, fear, adrenaline, and a piggy-back on the place's security, as paltry as it is. If someone dies, walks in, becomes afraid, or messes with security, I'll know."

"I never thought I'd have a CSI lab for a partner. I'm doing this the old-fashioned way- looking."

"I'm doing that, too. The rest is just for good measure."

"There! Female in all black, full-body unitard with gloves- can't be many of those. The mask is another giveaway, when it's this hot out. Move in, and remember that you can't give her any leverage. She's a wild card."

Inside, they found Morrigan as she dispatched her target. She (obviously a female- some things just couldn't be faked) didn't taunt, tease, or in any way draw out her act. Seeing the police, she whipped a blade from the other sleeve. She had a knife in each hand, and neither officer doubted she could use them.

"You won't get me," she said in a monotone that reminded Vic of Raven's affected speech patterns. Now, he only recognized her voice because of a gradual change. Inflections changed everything about a voice.

"We don't want to 'get you.'" Mare took charge. "We want to share sources. Nightwing works with Bludhaven cops, Batman works with us- they're doing fine. They get backup when needed, and all we ask is the occasional favor."

"I work alone."

"You still can."

"I will not be the department's pet crime fighter." She had a poisoned blade a hair away from Vic's face before he could move, nearly touching him before pulling back. "I will always work alone."

"Don't threaten my partner, Miss Morrigan. Bullets don't avoid you, and you're wearing a cotton jumpsuit."

"Are you taking me into the station?"

"Vigilantes who register with the GCPD aren't considered criminals. You can get aid, medical care, benefits, protection-"

"You couldn't keep me safe, and you won't know who I am. My secret identity is _secret. _I know that might be hard to get through your thick heads, but there's something called confidentiality. No hints, no clues- I'm just better informed than you. Am I free to go?"

"Anywhere else? No. But Gotham has harder acts to cover, and more criminals than you can shoot a Taser at, so we'll take help. The instant you hit someone not actively a criminal, though, we'll be shooting."

"That's all? Have a nice day, officers." She back flipped out an open window, gone from the alley before Mare could even look.

* * *

"She back-flipped out of a window, Rae. Is that even normal?" 

"Vic, I don't think anything any of us is ever remotely involved in is normal." Raven kept dry humor, even after she ditched the monotone. She could show emotion without being a danger to nearby people, animals, plants, or inanimate objects- usually. When the monotone returned, someone was in trouble. "Besides, you've been going on about this assassin for twenty minutes already. I haven't heard this much about a girl since Bumblebee broke up with you."

"I broke up with her."

"Same difference. You're not together. I think somebody has a crush."

"Crushes are for teenagers, Rae. I'm twenty-one. Besides, I like a different girl. Maybe," he added quickly. He was too late.

"Spill. Name, age, occupation, relationship status, hair color, eye color, nationality, and all relevant information." Raven had to look out for her almost-brother, after all. Starfire was too trusting. That left her to give a third-degree.

He knew there was no escaping the interrogation. If he wouldn't give it up, Raven could ask Kori about details. "Jenny Wilkinson, twenty-ish, secretary/payroll clerk/primary booking/paperwork management/claims handling, never has dated a guy more than once since she's come to the station, very red naturally, green-grey, pure Irish, and she's been on a date with me. Last night we saw a movie. I'm done talking. I'll listen for a while- how's the grass stain?"

"Impossible. He took me out to dinner about a week ago, after I won that case. We went to a fancy restaurant, he was giving off the most nervous vibes I've felt since I threw myself into a temporary coma after healing a little girl, and I swear he was going to ask me. But he didn't."

He knew what she meant. The Titans had a running bet on what year they would get married. Vic had this year in a pool with Kori and Dick, and felt very good about his chances. At least, he had until he heard her sounding like this. "What would you have said?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation.

"How long have you been going out, exactly?"

"Since a few months before my eighteenth birthday, and I'm twenty-two. He jokes about white being my new color whenever a wedding dress comes up- movies, advertisements, that kind of things. He just. . . I can't tell."

"Just give him time. We both know that he doesn't do confrontations with relationship issues, if he does them at all. You're a lot more open, Rae, but he could be nervous. Before you two started going out, and even about three and a half years ago, you did verbally and physically assault him for less."

"He deserved it."

"You know you needed the attention."

"That's beside the point. Is there anything I can do, Vic?"

"That would help your cause here without giving yourself away? No. Patience is a virtue," he reminded her, the argument sounding weak even to himself.

"Tell that to my emotions. I can barely calm them down. Happy's optimistic enough to make Rage never settle, Timid's having a self-confidence complex, Bravery wants me to ask him. You know I can adapt to being unusual. I just want one thing in my life to be normal. I didn't go to high school, I didn't have a prom, my first date was interrupted by a shootout, my first kiss by someone throwing a grenade at me. Something elaborate would be adorable, but all that matters is that he'd ask me. I need to _know, _once and for all, that he's as serious about this as I am."

"Have you guys used the big L?"

"Every day for a few months, at least twice. We're living together. But he'll joke about everything and anything."

"You know that's his way of dealing with something too serious."

"Well, it isn't mine. He jokes too much about things that matter. And it's just- he's home. Vic, he has a little white velvet box, and he's looking at it. Well, he really should know that I can see the parking lot perfectly well. We're only on the sixth story, and my optometrist told me I have impossibly good vision- 50/20 or something like that. He's pacing- that's a good sign, right?"

"I've never proposed, Rae." He considered even as he spoke. "But I'd guess so." She hadn't been this anxious since Kori and Dick's wedding, when she had been the maid of honor to Beast Boy's best man. Cyborg would have been the choice, but no one was about to split up Gar and Raven.

"He's coming inside. I'll- shoot, Vic, I don't know what to do." She didn't say shoot. "I have to look natural. I'll- read, that's it." He could hear the nervous rustling of a newspaper, and the muffled grousing at the headlined sports scores. "I'll just leave the phone on- you do want to hear, right?"

"If it wouldn't be intrusive. If you two decide to start consummating the union early, regardless if you've done it before, just click off the phone. I don't need the trauma."

"He's here," she whispered, half as happy as she had been in years and half-terrified. This was one of the biggest moments of her life, after all. She didn't want to be proposed to more than once.

"Rae? I'm back." He fumbled with the door as he closed it, dropping his keys (as usual). "You're feeling better, right?" Healings always made her tired, but she shook off the feelings easier than others for some. Don's was one of them- he had been more than willing to meet her half-way.

"Peachy."

Listening through speakerphone, Vic barely remembered to push 'mute' in time to hide a laugh. He had never in his life expected to hear Raven say _that. _

He heard something crinkle. As far as he could guess, someone was kneeling on a newspaper casually flung to the ground in nervous anticipation. "Rae, I hate to bother you- would you mind?"

"Would I mind what?" she prompted without a single hint of sarcasm.

"Getting this knot in my shoelace? It just won't get out, and I'd hate to cut it."

"Sure." Her tone was guarded. This was a very stupid joke, letting her 'find' a ring on his shoe. She untied it. Nothing. He already stood, pulling off the shoe. He was walking away.

"Thanks, Rae."

"Anything else?" The question still wasn't sarcastic. It was quiet, as if someone had cut the usual volume in portions and only returned one. He had a final chance.

"Well, there was one thing." He paused, remembering. "Could you get dinner tonight? The other guys in vet research are golfing today, and I'm trying it out."

"No. I can't. I've visiting Kori- she's home today." She grabbed her shoes, stomping into them as Cyborg pressed the 'mute' button a second time. "Just get take-out. I'll be back sometime. Don't wait up for me."

Vic waited until the door had shut with a quiet _click _before talking. A click meant that she was angry, far more so than a slam would signify. "Okay, Raven, I'm back." They often had paused conversations, but usually, he didn't hear what went on in the interim.

"She just left." Gar got over the initial shock of a voice quickly. "She'll be over at Kori's, but you could try her cell phone."

"I'll just talk to you for a while, if you have a minute. Anything going on with you?"

"I can be a little late- they don't expect me to be on time. It's just golfing, anyway."

Vic let that perfectly viable opportunity to harass Gar slip by. Golfing, of all things- odd sport to take up in mid-twenties, after proving many times to be lacking coordination. He could always make fun of Gar. He had to make sure Gar and Raven didn't have some problem. "What's eating you? I haven't heard a single joke. Something's up."

"It's- it's Rae. You can't tell her," he said urgently. "Not a single hint, Vic."

"All right, she won't hear a work." Gar didn't say a thing in response. "Or get some clue through visual or technological capabilities." Too bad Gar knew him so well- all he wanted to do was tell Raven she didn't have to worry.

"I'm- I'm thinking about asking her. The question, the big one," he said in a rush. "But she'll say no, and think I'm rushing things, and hate me forever."

"Gar?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm not asking her for you."

"Not even a hint?"

"I give you a hint, I give her a clue."

"I _know _she's said something to you."

"Probably," Victor acknowledged.

"About me proposing?"

"Ask her."

"Vic-"

"Ask Raven."

"Cyborg-"

"I'm not telling you, B. It's no use."

"Well, I'm going to ask her . . . next week."

"Why not go over to Kori's? Save us all the suspense. I want to know if I'll be buying a tux or sifting through rubble for your remains."

"And give her and Kori the perfect chance to laugh when she says no?"

"How long have you been going out?" Vic already knew the answer, but that was the point of a good question.

"Four years, three months, and- two days, I think. I asked her out. She'd just threatened to throw me out the window for accidentally dropping tofu in her herbal tea."

"Romance in the highest form. Gar, there is one way to know what she'll say."

"What do I have to do?"

"Ask her." Vic dropped his phone into its cradle. Sometimes, you just had to step back and wait, no matter how difficult it was. Those two had to work it out on their own.


	8. Tofu and Traffic

Cyborg stopped by Kori's house for a quick visit a few hours later, ready to trade information and move on quickly. He didn't expect to find Raven still there, with a dangerously red face, damp trails down her cheeks, and a large stack of facial tissues. He was allowed inside, and guessed that was a result of a very-frazzled Kori running dry on ideas. A woman looking for answers of that sort can't really get them from anyone but the one in trouble, but Kori was doing her best.

"Hey, Raven, are you heading home?" He drew a blank stare that scared a circuit into shorting somewhere. "Gar should be back by now, right?"

"He's talking to Dick. He left a message on my cell phone, saying someone else hadn't been good to talk with, and that he'd see me later tonight. What did you say, Vic?"

He should have known Raven would figure everything out. "Just . . . guy stuff."

"Vic, you're a horrible liar. Kori will side with me- we didn't hear it. I just need to know what he said."

"No way. I didn't tell him a thing, so no clues for you."

"Vic, she is not a happy camper," Kori whispered urgently. Usually, Raven would hear. Today, she was engaging in the occasionally needed binge of crying. "She thinks that he's joking about the relationship, doesn't love her, and that it's because she's half demon. Do you know how hard it is to deal with her in this state? I would be delighted if she would throw me out of the window- that would mean that she was at least somewhat close to normal."

Vic looked from a borderline-frantic Kori to an about-to-cry-again Raven. This was not his specialty. "See you some other time, girls. I'm . . . visiting Dick." He left quickly, denying to himself that he was retreating. This was a tactical maneuver, used before two teammates guilted him into letting the green cat's secrets out of the bag.

"Victor Stone, for all we ever did as Titans, you have to help me," Dick hissed, bursting into the hall. Raven and Kori were in the guest wing of the Wayne mansion. Gar had found Dick in the weight room, the tame upstairs version. Having a relation-issue soap opera in the Batcave was_ not _a good idea. "He's doing the sad-eyes thing- you know, The Face. Non-stop. He's been doing it for hours."

"Raven's talking to Kori. Their link from the puppet prince or whatever he called himself is still there. Kori understands Rae better than me," _but I know a heck of a lot more than either of you. Unfortunately, none of that can be revealed without guaranteeing myself grievous bodily harm, so I'll just play the fool._

Dick shoved Vic into the room. If this was any other situation, Dick would be at his side or at the front doing surveillance to decide on a course of action. Neither liked the emotional aspects of being a team. Besides, Dick had dealt with The Face for two hours, forty-one minutes, and thirty-nine seconds, not that he was keeping track.

"Gar, I'm working the late shift tonight, and I'm leaving now. If you promise to spill all the emotional crap so we can all bond and you'll get over whatever's bugging you, I'll drive to that tofu place." Vic's offer was desperate, and they all knew it.

"Sure!" The morose kitten disappeared, replaced by a soon-to-be-salivating Gar. Vic almost wished for the kitten that looked like someone was about to drown it. _You have to leave after just an hour, Vic. You'll make it.

* * *

_

The restaurant's hostess beamed to see Gar trailing two new guests. Both looked decidedly uncomfortable, but they weren't running for the burger place down the street yet. She seated them, and a waitress was at their table before two wary guests could even sit down, extolling the virtues of their all-organic, freshly-made tofu choices.

Vic and Dick ordered the safest items in the place- French fries easily drowned in ketchup and chocolate milkshakes with real milk. All other drinks looked far too healthy, and soda was a distant dream. The meal was worth it. Gar finally spilled what was bothering him. Both friends advocated asking her. Dick had proposed in the middle of the police station; Kori had been working triple overtime for the rape case Raven was prosecuting, and that had been the only way.

As Vic paid his share of the bill, he saw a familiar face. "Jenny?"

She disentangled her purse from her latest date, trying to detach it from a charm on her bracelet. Both Vic and the current date moved to help her, but she jerked away, tucking the bracelet into her sleeve. "How many cops are in here, anyway?" she asked, a weak attempt at conversation. "What ever happened to donuts?"

"This is just for a friend, the gree- guy with the green shirt. He's having relationship issues. I haven't seen the bracelet before- didn't know you liked charm bracelets."

"I don't. It's an identity bracelet."

Kori had just explained the difference to him last week. Identity bracelets were a chain with one charm engraved with a name or symbol. Charm bracelets, like Jenny's, had different charms attached to a chain. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, just as well as you know robotics," she snapped. Her date looked extremely confused. She ignored him. "It was nice seeing you, Vic. You're due at the station." She walked to a table with her date, glancing back once with an almost apologetic look. Vic didn't notice. His friends did, and ambushed him in the parking lot.

"Vic, you were flirting with someone else's date. What gives?" Gar knew that wasn't at all Vic's usual methods.

"That was _not _flirting. She was obviously wondering why a cop would go willingly into a restaurant that serves such chick food, and the purse brought attention to the bracelet. Gar, the next time I have a relationship issue, you owe me a trip to a steakhouse."

"I've _been _a cow. What do you have against tofu, anyway?"

"Vic, who is she?" Dick cut in. The tofu vs. meat debate could go on all night.

"Jenny. Jenny Wilkinson. She's a secretary at the precinct, and the only person besides my partner, the chief, and Kori to know the ring isn't just jewelry." He checked his watch. "And I'm leaving. I've heard vague threats about what Mare can do, and I'm not about to be a guinea pig." He left quickly, putting questioning off for some other day. Maybe Kori would explain it for him. She had all the details.

* * *

"No going on duty with problems running through your mind," Mare said before Vic could even fasten his seatbelt. "Don't give me that are-you-psychic-or-just-psychotic look. I've been an officer longer than you've been alive, and I know that going out on patrol while thinking about other things is bad. Especially for your first night-shift, when the big names come out." 

"Two of my friends are having problems; both want to get married, but the guy's too scared to propose."

"So tell him that if the girl does want him to ask, she'll know if he's been thinking about it, even if this isn't one of your special friends. If she likes him at all, she'll either say yes or ask for a little time. 'No' isn't nearly as common as guys think." Mare pulled out of the garage, making a sharp right turn. Vic saw her left hand for the first time that night.

"You're getting hitched?"

"We haven't set a date yet. Don's doing great- he has full control of his arms, face, and was showing off and wiggling his toes. First thing out of his mouth when I went to see him was 'Want to get married?' I said yes, and he pulled out the ring he'd been carrying around that night. Would have made it a hell of a lot easier if he'd of asked me, so his parents didn't have to say that I knew his current wishes best. Besides, they both couldn't make the trips to Gotham, and weren't moving him from the convalescence ward there."

"So, asking isn't likely to get you killed? This is Raven and Garfield, otherwise known as Raven and Beast Boy." She'd seen both of them.

"They look ready for the commitment. That, and any dressmaker on or near the West Coast would sell their soul to design a dress for Raven. She's famous, she's gorgeous, and she's a challenge- interesting skin tone, hair, eyes, the whole deal."

"So, without knowing a thing about Raven, you'd tell Gar to go for it?"

"Definitely." She glanced at him. "What's your other problem?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She was silent for the next eight blocks.

He caved. "Okay, it's this bracelet Jenny has. I've never seen it before, but it has a tan line on her arm. The tan line shows spaces between chain links. Something's funny about it, and it keeps making me think of her, then the bracelet, and then flashing through possibilities."

"Is it a tingly feeling, in your gut?" She didn't even glance at him to know he would nod. "It's called a cop's intuition, as close to women's intuition as a guy can get. Some detail will give you a funny feeling. Nine times out of ten, it's right. What do you think is strange about it?"

"It's a charm bracelet, with the little charms all over it. She called it an identity bracelet." It sounded silly, even to him.

"Okay, Romeo. You're either fixated on any detail about Jenny, or there's some kind of clue in there. When you figure out what kind of clue it could be, let me know. Until then, focus on the now. Look up ahead. The Escalade's riding low on its wheels, has tinted windows, and is driving in a bad part of town. The little light bulb above the license plate's burned out. We're pulling him over."

"Is that allowed?"

"The light bulb thing? Yes. That's a traffic infraction. It isn't used unless the car looks suspicious. We pull them over, glance in the back, find drugs, and he's off to jail."

"So, this is night patrol?"

"Yes, and I wish it wasn't. If your life's so bad only drugs make you feel like it's worth living, you need to get out of the skid row you're in. Too many people can't afford it, too many middle-class and rich kids thrive on the feelings. It's a no-win situation, except for the sellers."

"Except this one. If we have anything to do with it, he'll be in jail for a while."

"Are your tough-talk lines always that lame?"

He shrugged. "They're worse when I had Robin to play off. You're lucky to only get half the effect."

She shuddered. "Some things just don't need thinking about. Go on, read that boy his rights- I can smell the marijuana from here."

* * *

:My Public Service Announcement: _Seriously, pot is bad for you. Inhaling smoke is never good, pot delays reaction time, and about eighty percent of teenagers who get into car accidents are high, according to a recent statistic of the Department of Transportation (part of US cabinet under president). The message here? Don't smoke. No, I do not want defenses of pot. I've heard them all before. It's bad for you? Got it? Of course not, but I've made my effort._


	9. Telephone

"Kori, I know I shouldn't interrupt you while you're taking care of some case or other, but it's about Vic." Dick knew that one of the few allowed interruptions was mentioning a close friend.

"I'm not on duty. It's fine. Besides, I have the feeling your gossip is more entertaining than sorting through office scuttlebutt for leads."

He smiled, because she couldn't see the expression to ask why. She'd come a long way from a lost alien, and now the internal homicide investigator threw slang around like anyone,any small _faux pas _in everyday speech attributed to the foreign customs of some tiny European nation. "Vic saw Jenny at a restaurant, and they both looked pretty interested. Gar said there were some serious pheromones, and he is the expert. So, what's the chances?"

Kori rolled her chair away from a crowded desk. She technically wasn't on duty, but this was personal. Someone in the department was more than likely misappropriating information. "Not good. Jenny goes out with anyone- just dinner, the farthest ever gotten is a kiss. She takes herself home in a cab. She won't make a move, he's too nice to ask a second time for another date. Stalled."

"Any hope?"

"At the moment? None. He's given up- his chances are better than most, but way too close to zero. He's more obsessed with finding Morrigan. She's that assassin I told you about. Short, pretty, fond of knives? She has another hit on her list. Broad daylight, this time with a witness. A man she was following tried to mug a woman at gunpoint. She stabs pressure points."

He knew what she wanted. "I'll ask around, as both." Dick Grayson of the Wayne Foundation and Nightwing of Bludhaven had different contacts. "I could always ask Oracle. If she doesn't know, look around for the riders of the Apocalypse. She always has something."

"Thanks. Oh- could you pick up milk? We're running out, and I'm already working late."

He laughed. "Sure, Kori. Later. Bye." He hung up, wondering at their conversations. From murderous vigilantes to mundane milk- well, it was normal to him. Gar was gone, after taking a cab. But- if Kori was at work, where was Raven?

* * *

"Rae? Where are you? I'm at home with dinner. You're not here." He heard someone talking in the background on her end of the line. 

"DA's office. I volunteered for a new case. I'm speaking with a victim in four minutes."

"Rae, are you mad at me?"

He couldn't see a rather disturbing look on her face that caused some underling (below a _pro bono _prosecutor that picked and chose her cases) to back away quickly. "No. What ever gave you that idea?"

"I- well- um- nothing."

"That's why you called? I did leave a message on your cell phone."

"Erm." _Very eloquent- way to go, Gar._

"Glad to hear you're your usual articulate self. My client's here early. Good night. I'll be in late."

"Night."

He barely had time for the syllable before the loud click of a disconnected phone line. He dialed a number, crossing his fingers. "Vic?"

"Yeah? Gar? I'm en route to make an arrest. Is this important?" Vic sounded calm, but Gar could hear screeching tires. Mare was in pursuit of a fleeing suspect, and had nearly killed four pedestrians too slow or too stupid to get out of the way.

"I think Rae's mad at me, but she won't even give me that much."

_Duh. _"Why would she be?"

"I don't know. I-"

"Hold on a second- there's a call on my other line." Vic punched a button. It was on his arm, but that was his usual phone. Mare, engrossed (thankfully) in the chase, only rolled her eyes. "Hello?"

"Vic, you're arresting the suspect for a four thirty-nine?"

"Yes, we're chasing the 439 suspect right now. Running only makes him look worse in court, but they always think they'll get away, when we have plates, pictures, and positive name-based I.D. picked out of a hundred mug shots."

"Get him, please. A warrant is on its way for a full search of his premises. Check the compartment under the back left seat for the bench in the back. The cushion won't set right near the back. Inside, you'll find either evidence or where there were a few pretty incriminating things. I'm with the victim now. She's prosecuting."

"Got it, Rae." He didn't bother waiting for a closing formality. Raven was already speaking to her guest. He hung up her line, getting back to the other line. "Gar? I can't talk right now. We are on the tail of a suspect- literally. We'll talk later, okay?"

"Understood." Beast Boy disconnected, dialing a new number. Maybe Kori would take pity on him. "Kori?"

"Gar! Nice to hear from you." Kori guessed she wouldn't be getting any work done for the night. Well, she wasn't on the books.

"Is Rae mad at me?"

"You're asking me? Ask Raven."

"I did. She hung up, quasi-politely."

"Why?" Starfire asked, spinning hair around a finger. Was Gar as slow as she guessed? She and Dick had never had this problem. They'd have several other issues, but not this.

"She's working on a case, but I think she's mad at me. I know she was talking to you for a while."

"Really?"

"Well, 'I'm going to see Kori' is a pretty good clue. Can I at least know if I'm in trouble? She's less in the habit of random outbursts, and hasn't thrown me out a window in about three years now, but you never know."

"Girl talk privileges mandate a short answer; no reasons, explanations, or ways to make up without physical or mental harm, as well as damage to reputation. You understand the terms, Gar?"

"Yeah."

"She's mad."

"She never said a word about the golf thing!" He waited.

"Nice try, Gar, but no hints. You're lucky to get that much. When she decides to tell you, you'll know."

"You won't reconsider?"

"No. Goodbye, Gar- I have the feeling that's all you wanted to ask."

"Well, yeah. We can catch up some other time. Bye, Kori."

"Bye, Gar."

He dialed a last number. "Dick? It's Gar. Do you know why Rae's mad at me, or could you get it out of Kori?"

"Let me try. Can you hold for a minute, Gar?"

"Sure."

Dick pressed a series of buttons while glancing at the time. He had a half hour before Nightwing usually started prowling Bludhaven. "Hey, Kori."

"No, hon, I won't tell you why Rae's mad at Gar." She smiled at his silence. "Yes, it's that obvious. Gar just called me, and you never call this close to prowl time unless there's an emergency. I was hoping, given the options, that this was about Gar."

"He's spazzing, Kori."

"Well, that's tough. Sometimes, girls just need girls to talk to. I told him that she was mad. That's all he needs." She glanced at her papers, seeing a pattern in the abstract series of facts. "I just had an idea, about my case. Call you later, 'kay?"

"I'll see you home, right?"

"That'll do. Love you."

"Love you."

"Happy hunting."

"Same to you, Kor." Dick decided to make one last effort. "Vic? It's Dick. It's about Gar."

"No way. Rae swore me to secrecy, and so did he, on a different point."

"Kori said sometimes girls just need girls to talk to."

"That's true. I'm the big brother- Rae's a sister, Gar's the annoying little brother none of us want to do without. I'm not part of the girl-talk. Wait- I have an idea. Next week, sometime- what am I saying? I need you. Tonight. The assassin, the one me and Kori are tracking. Morrigan. Could you get a few people she'd see as allies together, for a little girl talk?"

"You mean-"

"Catwoman, Poison Ivy, Harley- girls' night out with Morrigan. I know she and Batman are something, and she'd know you. Catwoman, I mean."

"You know what I'll end up doing to get said meeting to happen is illegal."

"Yeah."

"That no one can really know about it, except Mare."

"Yeah."

"You're asking me to use my connections as a superhero."

"Yes. As I recall, you've used my technology."

Dick paused. Victor had him, there. "I'll arrange something. Tonight, if at all possible."

"Thanks."

"No problem." Dick got back to Gar, leaving Vic to glare at the passenger in the backseat screaming about something not fit to print. "Guess what, Gar. There's one way to get out of your mess."

"How?"

"The old-fashioned way. Flowers, chocolates, and walking on eggshells. Good luck."

"Thanks," Gar muttered. "In case you haven't forgotten, this girl can and will throw me out the window of our third-floor apartment."

"Then you should turn into a bird."

"I'm getting no sympathy here, am I?"

"No."

"If I was there, I'd punch you."

"And hurt your hand, grass stain. There's one benefit of the telephone."

* * *

Dick had a final call to make, from the small device he kept from days as Robin and used fairly regularly. "Oracle? Can you hear me?" He was careful to not bring the OraCom too close to his mouth. She was irritable when people blasted through her speakers. Remembering the acoustics of the Batcave, he could hardly blame her. 

"Loud and clear, Robin. Or is it Nightwing?"

"This is a secure channel, right?"

He could hear ruffled feathers. Oracle didn't even have feathers. "Of course it's secure. I made this thing from the ground up. What do you need?"

"A big favor, Babs. Dick to you, Richard to Barbara. I need to find Catwoman."

"What? Aren't you married?"

"Not like _that, _Babs. I need a favor from her, something only a bad girl can do. She's the villainess least likely to rip me to shreds, kill me with freaky poison, or go running to Joker. It's about the assassin in Gotham, Morrigan."

"I don't have much on the assassin. I have all police reports, but no clue where she gets her link about who's working for Slade. She knows before investigators. They find a body, they start looking for the link to Slade. And as for Catwoman, she's in your town."

"So, she's local?"

"I'll say. Bludhaven Museum of the Arts, and by the security cameras, she snuck in, piggy-backed their cams with some fancy trinket, and is fairly purring over the local collection of feline-themed artwork. She's local."

"Will people stop bringing that stuff near here?"

"Then she'd only go somewhere else, where the poor schmucks would never catch her."

"True. Thanks, Babs. I'll find her."

"You're welcome, Dick. Just- stop by, sometime. Maybe you could call me on the telephone. Do you even use one of those anymore?"

Dick remembered the many conversations he'd had that day, and laughed so she wouldn't hear (very well). "Yeah, Babs, I'd say I do. That all, Batgirl?"

"I'm not Batgirl anymore. Legs, remember?" After an encounter with the Joker, she was paralyzed from the waist down. That was when she had become the team's computer and information genius.

"You're always Batgirl. Besides, that's friendlier than Oracle, the Supreme All-Knowing Mysterious Woman."

"Who said I have to be friendly, when I could be Supreme?"

"Good point."

"Of course it is. I made it. Tim's calling me- on the _phone. _You know, to talk without the sole purpose of wrangling some piece of information or favor?"

"Telephone. Purely for the pleasure of conversation. I'll remember that, and pass it on to my friends."

"You do that. Over and out, 'Wing."

"Over and out, Oracle." Dick sighed when his cell phone let out its piercing shriek of a ring. Gar again, requesting details on flowers, chocolates, and phrases to be avoiding. With the air of a noble martyr, Dick spilled the secrets of not getting killed by a woman while keeping reproductive status intact.

Gar had a lot to learn, but Dick had learned from an alien. Vic had it easy- the girl he liked was a secretary. She wouldn't be the type to blast holes through walls or break glass. Of course, she probably didn't spend nearly as much time on the telephone. Dick only thought of one thing, even as he extolled the virtues of _not _buying low-fat ice cream to go with the I-made-it-myself-because-I-really-love-you cake. He thanked his lucky stars they all had unlimited nights and weekends. They'd need them, if this kept up- and there was no need to add a cell phone bill to all this trauma.


	10. Encounters

Vic returned to the station. Charlie was off-duty, but Kori had said there was a note for him. He made his way through cramped hallways. It was odd, but the station seemed smaller late at night, when no one else was there, and there was less room in the halls when they were empty. He found Charlie's dispatch booth without an issue. What he found in Charlie's booth was.

"Kaitlin." He knew her by sight- small, pretty, glossy dark hair, came up to his elbow. She had cheated on Charlie with another cop. Before knowing her, Vic already didn't have a very good opinion of the woman. "Why are you in Charlie's dispatch?" No one called it a cubicle, even if Charlie was fond of office humor. He was a cop, to them, no matter what title he had.

"I'm- looking for something," she said, looking him dead in the eye. With the height difference, that meant she was looking up. Pretty far up. "He kicked me out of the apartment, but he doesn't understand. I saw him looking at Alex."

"He looked at her. You did a little more than look at Smith." Vic wasn't easily swayed. He knew Charlie. He didn't know details. He was trying not to judge, but Kaitlin wasn't making that very easy.

"Well, that's over. I'm sorry. He won't answer my calls, take pages, or open my e-mails."

"So you're fixing a bug in his radio." Vic was no slouch at electronics. She was no professional. He could see her "subtle" alterations behind her back with no problem. "Very likely to increase the precinct's opinion of you. Accountants are pretty easy to replace, if you're causing a bother. Charlie isn't going anywhere."

"Everyone takes his side." She gave an expression of innocence he had seen on many faces. Jinx had done it better, much better. He had fallen for her several times, even if principles got in the way of a real relationship. No matter how romantic it seemed, good and not-good (well, she wasn't really evil) wasn't a good basis for a relationship. Neither was I-spy and you're-also-a-spy.

"Maybe you should remember that. If you leave now, I'll look at exactly what you were trying to do to the dispatch booth, and, depending on what it was, fix it and give you a warning and rat you out to a few officers who will keep an eye on you, or tell the chief. You don't leave now, I call for back-up and you're arrested."

"You wouldn't dare. I'm an employee, and Adam's the son of our most generous contributor, and Mare's nephew."

"To you, she's Officer Lawrence. No wonder she doesn't bring him up much- he's hardly favorite-relative material. I'm not bluffing." He punched a button on his radio. Mare would be there in a minute- his radio was switched on, and she would hear everything. She was still in the station, booking hours and parking the car, details he would eventually take care of.

"Well, rookie, maybe you should. There's more in this station than you think. Adam can have you fired, in the middle of a huge scandal, or under a bit of duress. Don't make me mad- he'll set his friends on you. They're not very nice."

"You know, Kaitlin, it's really no wonder Charlie divorced you. I can see why Adam will never marry you. From all talk, he's dating that pretty rich starlet. You're nothing but a side dish, Kaitlin. It's a pity, but you're nothing to him." Vic hated to see the look on her face. She didn't believe him. She honestly thought something of the little affair.

"He'll break up with her next week, and then he'll be with me. Charlie was nice, but I know where he'll end up. Old, poor, and still here when he's seventy. Adam will retire while he's still a bit young, go to the Riviera, and we'll see the world." Her eyes were far away, seeing sights no one else could. "Just me and him. Charlie'll find somebody. She'll be happy to be poor. I'll have money, and power, and people will know my name."

"Kaitlin-" It was worthless.

"That's half of it. Kaitlin Morgan will finally be something but a number-crunching drudge. Just you watch- I have power in Gotham, more than you know. Adam has people in his pocket- mayoral advisors, cops, firefighters, politicians- and he'll use them. I'll have my own ways of spreading my name."

"That's it. Out of Charlie's booth, Kaitlin, or you can spread your influence from inside prison. I already know that you're guilty of tampering with police equipment and sabotage. Infidelity will only make you look bad in court." Vic was more than a little relieved to see Mare step around the corner. She knew the correct protocol.

"Kaitlin Morgan, you can be held overnight for probable damage to the police station, malicious slander, and we can later confirm charges of sabotage. If you leave the premises now, your belongings will be returned by courier. Acting in good faith, I will allow you to leave the premises now." Mare's voice was hard as steel, and her face was set like flint. All she needed was one spark, and there would be fire.

"I have power," Kaitlin hissed. "Adam won't be happy about this. Neither am I." With that, she stormed out of the station, grabbing only her mask. Vic was already removing an addition to the radios.

"It's bad. Remote incendiary, not timed- if she ever got mad, the system would blow. Listening on all channels, scanning capabilities- she has a genius friend, or is overqualified for her job." Vic brandished a microchip no larger than a fingernail.

"How do you see all that, just out of curiosity?" Mare asked, while watching to ensure Kaitlin left the building.

He tapped his left eye. "Zoom, technology readers- basically, that's the other side of my brain. Labs would have to whip out equipment. They can still verify, but there's enough data in this to get her fired." He picked up the note to read later. Reading didn't sound good to a tired mind- he really needed a recharge.

"I'll talk with the chief. You go home, partner. We're at ten sharp tomorrow- in the A.M., mind you." She knocked at the Chief's door, not surprised to find him inside. He was the definition of workaholic.

Just as Vic was leaving the precinct, he had yet another phone call. It was short, quick, and to the point- Nightwing was on patrol, so Dick called him. "I'm on route to talk to . . . an old acquaintance. If the powwow with your assassin happens, I'll call you in the morning with details. Sound good?"

"Sonic good," he said, borrowing a slogan as always. "Don't know what I'd do without you, Dick."

"Neither do I. And- if you ever need a bit of help, call me up. Dick Grayson can always take a break from being a desk jockey, Nightwing wouldn't mind helping out an officer- I've still got the boom."

"And I've got the sonic." They hung up. Vic went to his car, and for the first time that night, thought he actually might get some idea about the assassin who called herself Morrigan.

* * *

Nightwing was actually glad to hear the cameras to the Bludhaven Museum of the Arts were disconnected. Only a few were looped, and only Oracle caught the glitch in the new exhibit wing, featuring a display of local artists and work related to felines. If there was a better lure for Catwoman, she couldn't have planned it. Once Nightwing had the location, he decided to drop in. 

"Catwoman," he said, as a greeting.

"'Wing," she replied, not looking away from a collection of paintings and sculpture. "So, I guess you're tired of the whole Christmas look? I remember your voice."

"You know you're not what the Egyptians had in mind," he said as she lifted a small gold carving from a glass display case. The statuette was in the style of Old Egypt, but was unmistakably a depiction of Catwoman.

"And you are? This artist was thinking of me. Too bad it's just leaf." She put the statue back, instead focusing on a necklace of semi-precious gemstones. Well, not everything was diamonds.

"No," he said, barely paying attention to queries or remarks. "I have an offer to make, Cat."

"Oh?"

"If you'll do me a little favor, a friend of mine in the detectives of Gotham will unfreeze a few assets for collaborating with police work. The department will stop using herbicides for police property in all of Gotham. Arkham will open visiting hours for a day."

"Pretty bait. What do you want? Foursomes don't seem your style. You've loosened up a bit, but you're too traditionalist. Besides, we're not your type, and we don't do that. We come to you, not the other way around."

"Not at all- I'm not even involved, except as messenger. You, Poison Ivy, and Harley Quinn have a little chat with Morrigan, loner vigilante. She isn't our target, but we have reason to believe she's watching a pretty big fish."

Catwoman yawned. "Any name for the supposed sardine she's tailing?"

"Slade." Every last one of Morrigan's victims had been somehow connected to Slade, by all reports. That was only conjecture, but the best guess Kori had. She'd left a message, finding the hints of a link just before giving up and going home. She hadn't slept for two days, and was getting cranky.

She looked at him suddenly, moving her neck so fast he was surprised to not hear a snap like a whip. "Half-face, mask, creepy guy? He doesn't always go for heroes."

"Oh?" 'Wing kept an icy front, glad for a mask. This was the first time he had heard of such a thing. Hive had been the first to work for Slade, but Dick had thought that a one-time deal.

"You've never heard of Flame. She was a protégé of mine, so good she never got caught, never had to use banter. Slade engaged her services. She ended up dead. The only known vigilante to ever come out alive and free? A little girl, fragile as anything from the outside- she's been on the run for a long time, waiting for a shot at revenge."

"Nice bedtime story, but why tell me?"

"She goes by Morrigan. If the police and name-guns will be aiming for Slade, not taking anything at her- I'll help. I'll need your word. If she gets dragged into the pen, I'll have a little unscheduled meeting with everyone involved."

"Morrigan won't be in any legal trouble- standard for informants." He had to ask. Ironic as it was, curiosity was killing him. "She was a villain before she met Slade?"

"She was a vigilante, chasing smalltime crooks. She ran into Slade. That's all that I ever found out." That was the most that was common knowledge to villains. Catwoman caught all important gossip. Curiosity helped the cat stay alive, after all.

She grinned. "Ask that rookie cop about Morrigan- she near killed him a few days ago. She could have, but she chose the dramatic exit route. Besides, no one kills good cops, except psychos like Joker."

"Thanks, Cat." He glanced at the exhibit. She was fingering a necklace. "You still can't take that."

"I don't want it. The settings are bad, it's purely decorative, and putting it on would break every last bit of glue off. And the little bit of cuneiform carving? Fake. All marks are perfectly even. Mark of an expert craftsman, right? Wrong. That was made from machine-made tools, not wedges of papyrus. Papyrus splinters."

"Thanks for the history lesson."

"Anytime."

He watched her go, seeing the sparkle of a stolen amulet tucked in her catsuit too late. Well, he had been trying to avoid staring at that gap in the outfit. He was married, after all, and Catwoman was too old for him. She was almost Bruce's age. Funny- he'd never really thought that Bruce Wayne could get old.

"Oracle? 'Wing." He knew she was listening.

"Copy, 'Wing."

"How much do you know about Morrigan?"

"Spell."

"M-O-R-R-I-G-A-N."

"Police had a knife carved with that word and an engraving of a dog, she's an assassin and vigilante. Bats knows about her. She only eyes after select lowlifes, and half the time has her target before I even know the criminal's there."

"So she's fast?"

"She's very fast. Did the station get a pattern? Not even my systems have anything but guesses."

"Catwoman gave a few tidbits to back up the station's theory."

"Who do they think?"

"Slade."

"Half-face, mask, creepy guy?"

He managed not to laugh. If he did, he would have to explain why her remark amused him. "Yeah, that's him."

"So, you're teaming up with her to go after him." She sounded more than a little incredulous. "The guy that always won before?"

"Basically, yes."

"Good luck. You'll need it. Over and out- Bats needs me."

"Thanks, Babs. Way to be encouraging," he muttered, heading closer to home. It was three A.M., nothing was happening, and Kori was home. He was done for the night- Catwoman could have her fun without a hint of supervision.


	11. Girls' Night Out

Morrigan walked into the bar known to all villains in Gotham. The place was pretty exclusive- petty crooks were sometimes tolerated, but she had never been there. Penguin's place was a bit of culture shock, with many famed villains in their full costumed glory sitting around a bar, at ease and exchanging stories of heroes and victories and defeats.

She kept her hand near the hilt of her knife. A careless assassin was a dead one. She had started out stupid, some half-baked small-town vigilante who kept scared crooks at bay. That had been before Slade, before Morrigan. That had been some pathetic name, one she couldn't even remember. She took a deep breath, a final addition to her resolve before wading (literally) through the crowd.

Some psycho in a lime green (where were the fashion police? They have a much-needed arrest for crimes against humanity, let alone fashion) jumpsuit and matching mask had found her while she was on yet another casual stroll past a potential victim's house, scouting windows, doors, and neighbors. He'd delivered a verbal invitation (in rhyme, for crying out loud), then hinted that "they" would find her if she didn't show.

She did not expect an infamous woman in a purple leather (maybe fashion police avoided Gotham on general principle, even if Catwoman could pull the look off) catsuit to greet her with a handshake and take her to a private booth. She couldn't have known there were more people to meet- a girl in a skintight jester's outfit and another in a leaf-covered leotard (okay, maybe the fashion police just didn't know where to start).

"We hear you're going for a villain," Catwoman began. "A big one."

"I suppose you know why."

"Past grudges," Poison Ivy supplied, smoothing the leaves on her costume. "I have those, too. Common to bad girls and boys everywhere, even those on the good side of the law."

"But-" they said as one.

"You don't take credit."

"You don't take trophies- no money, no nostalgia."

"You don't like killing."

"I-" Morrigan couldn't even think of a retort to true statements. "So what?" she mumbled weakly. Yeah. That would stop three famed villainesses.

"Girl, before Slade took you, you never hurt a flea. You were some goodie overtime private eye, helping with lost parrots." Harley Quinn was taking charge, a rare move, but her "puddin'" had been in Arkham for three weeks and four days, close to the record of time without a breakout. "After- you were the perfect assassin, and no one even knew you were there for years. You only had a name after ditching that knife."

"I was shooing the cops off my tail. They needed a name to pin to the crimes and their surveillance feed."

"You have someone inside the GCPD, or you're in. Which is it?" Ivy asked. Around friends in this type of dive, she was just Ivy. It simplified matters. Besides, she wasn't poison to her friends, and the unlikely trio had nothing to gain by killing each other off.

"My sources are confidential."

"You're bluffing, but you're good at it." Catwoman smiled the way only a feline, or the closest a human could get to one, could. "So, what makes you tick? I love pretty things and adrenaline. Ivy loves plants and plots, and poison does things to you. Harley loves Joker." Catwoman grimaced at the last three words- no one ever understood her fascination. Maybe lunatics just needed each other.

"Got that right," Harley said happily, glad the conversation wasn't (for once) why she should leave him, he wasn't good enough for her, or that he didn't love her.

"I- want to get him. Slade. The police can't. Heroes have failed. I saw him wreck too many lives. And this is payback." Morrigan spun her knife without paying much attention, a nervous habit.

"Sometime, someday, to someone, you have to talk, Morrigan. Really talk. Everyone needs to vent sometimes, you know. Even Bats." Catwoman was serious.

"From all inside rumors, you have someone to talk to," Ivy purred, earning a curious look from Catwoman. Purring wasn't one of Ivy's usual tics.

"Wh- what?"

"The cop, silly," Harley giggled. "Mr. Tall, Dark, and Not-as-Handsome-as-Mistah-Jay-but-still-pretty-good-lookin'."

"I heardyou threatened to kill. An informant saw the conflict, said you were a complete icicle under pressure- cool, sharp, and with the potential to kill. Not one of the spindlies- one of the nice-sized ones." Catwoman watched Morrigan like she was a butterfly underneath a cat-claw.

"Cool as a cucumber," Ivy added to Catwoman's diagnosis. "He's a rookie, ain't he? Think about it- why's he on special-duty stakeout? That stuff's either for veterans or someone pretty special."

Morrigan shrugged. "He's something special. Looked more nervous when I moved one certain way, so I know where to take him down."

"Enough about him. About you-"

"What's next?"

"When Slade's gone?"

"Does the Morrigan disappear?"

"Find a new nemesis?"

"Turn to more profitable crimes?"

"Take over the world?"

"Pair up?"

"I don't know." Morrigan interrupted the tirade of questions. "I've never really thought of Slade being fully gone."

"You're a workaholic."

"You're a homicidal goodie two-shoes."

"Not really a bad girl."

"Never seduced a victim."

"Never played the helpless-girl-in-costume card."

"Never thrown a knife."

"Or packed a gun."

"You'll go down like a lead submarine if Batsy ever takes the inclination."

"Unless . . . "

"Unless . . . "

"Unless you know tricks of the trade."

"Have police backing."

"Turn on the charm."

"Let it all loose."

"Let your hair down."

"Get off your high horse."

"Batsy Junior hired us to talk to you, sweetie, but we'd do it for free, given the thought. The little treats were just bonuses, like when you trick on Halloween and you get candy, too." Catwoman sounded familiar with emphasis on "trick" in trick-or-treat. "Slade's a hot topic."

"Dangerous."

"Crazy," Harley added. She would be able to judge that much.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Keep safe. We might be on the other side of the law, but girls have to stick up for each other. Supers are lonely, hero or villain or vigilante."

"Keep smart. Don't be afraid to come here for info- Pengy treats you nice, or we say something to him. More like cause some severe physical trauma, but you get the idea and so will he- I think he already does."

"Keep makin' 'em think. While they chase you for sources, they don't consider you a full baddie. They want you on their side. If they offer you a deal, make the choice. If you go with them, you're one of them. If you decide to slog out the less-traveled road, we'll be there."

Catwoman glanced at her watch a few minutes after Morrigan left. The assassin had taken a few further bits of advice, but had fled pretty early for a bad girl. It was time for Selina to call a Dr. Logan about Mistofelees, and give a hint. He'd saved her cat, so she could clue in a person 'Wing kept on speed dial. 'Wing didn't like animals. Dr. Logan was green. Case closed. As far as she knew, Nightwing still thought he'd dropped his phone. She just had needed to steal it- curiosity kills a cat, but satisfaction keeps it fat. Fat cats have more time to play, her favorite hobby.

* * *

"Garfield, cats need to stick together," she purred into the mouthpiece after dialing. 

Miles away, a green man stared at his phone, checking the caller ID. "Um- this is Garfield Logan. Nightwing, what's going on?"

Shoot. Caller ID. Well, it would be funnier if 'Wing knew she had stolen his phone, anyway. "This isn't 'Wing. It's Catwoman. I just met someone that I think your friends might be interested in."

"What is it?" He already had a notepad, grabbed from the surface of his desk. He was in his tiny study of the apartment while Raven was watching some movie. Some _Lifetime _movie. Something was seriously wrong, and he needed help that no one would give him.

"Morrigan- the assassin. She just left the bar. She may or may not be open to a deal with police. Confront her- one of you ought to be able to figure out who she is. She's in-department, as you know."

"Can you help me?" he asked. _Okay, Gar. You're desperate. This proves it._

"With what, doc?"

"Relationship problems," he blurted. When she didn't burst out laughing, he took the silence as consent. "Raven and I have been going out for four years. I'm thinking about proposing. She's acting really, really strange. She's hyper-sensitive, moodier than ever, becoming a full-fledged alcoholic, and watching _Lifetime _movies."

"Raven Teen Titans Raven? Gothic I'll-kill-you-if-you-come-closer Raven? Raven who sent Dr. Light into a happily lit cozy padded cell in Arkham Raven?" Catwoman asked, stifling a laugh.

"Yes."

"You mean- you're not kidding. You're seriously not kidding. _Raven _is watching those horrid things? What did you do?"

"Nothing unusual! All I did was go out golfing and ask her to get take-out for dinner! She said the week before that golfing was a pretty stupid sport, but the best to take up out of the meetings that were planned."

"Maybe you didn't do something," Catwoman said, as cryptically as she could.

"Like what?"

"What are you asking me for? Having estrogen doesn't mean that I know exactly why she's acting strange- the movies are odd behavior, right?"

"Right."

"So, ask her what's wrong."

"You've heard of Raven?"

"Mm-hm."

"She'll kill me."

"Entirely possible with any girl, in the right state of mind. Now, I have crimes to commit, darling. I can't be on the phone with you all night. Now, if you were thinking about asking her, don't delay it. That's a bad move. Just- ask the instant it feels somewhat right."

"Got it."

She hung up, snapping the phone closed. She was going soft. That had to be it. Or . . . she was making sure the veterinarian she had chosen to further the health of her cat was in a good mental state. That sounded much better. No crimes tonight- she was exhausted. Maybe Ivy and Harley were still at Pengy's- she could use a little more of a girl's night out. On second thought, maybe she needed a nap.


	12. Coming Together

By some miracle, all shifts fit together the next day. Dick called off work- he rarely used personal days, and wasn't vital to the success or failure of Wayne Enterprises. Kori had been personally banned from the station by Senior Detective Renee Montoya until her shift started at four. Vic had just been to court as the officer for issued speeding tickets. Gar let the other partners in the business take over. Rae was still on her own schedule, and knew that Vic wouldn't call her for anything less than an emergency.

They met at a neutral restaurant for lunch- good hamburgers, killer vegetarian menu. Dick and Kori sat next to each other, taking the back of the corner booth. Vic and Mare, still in dress uniform, took one side. He had insisted that Mare come- she was just as involved with Morrigan as he and Kori were. Rae sat beside Gar, with an expression reminiscent of her days in the Tower when she was about to make some threat. He didn't say a word- the light bulbs in the place were all intact, and could stay that way.

Dick had a familiar look in his eye- Robin was taking over. Vic was still far away in thought, so he let Dick take control. "She's getting information before Oracle. She's one track-minded enough to make Batman look careless. She's more obsessed with Slade than I am. The police want information, I want to get Slade."

"You know, other people do lunch to catch up on gossip, have fun, plan reunions, or maybe just to enjoy the company. We are, again, indirectly discussing Slade."Gar quailed under a barrage of death glares. Rae was in a bad mood, Vic was completely serious, Dick was always too focused, even Kori was upset, and Mare- she was a class all her own. He was ready to confess to a few minor crimes from childhood. "Okay, I have no leads, and couldn't find a real scent to track as a wolf. Catwoman called me after the rendezvous- nothing definite."

"I asked an old acquaintance to put pressure on- no names." Dick glared at Gar. No one outside the booth had heard, but a little source-client confidentiality never hurt. "She did so, and doesn't have a name, but says that the assassin was really close to Vic."

"I've been staking her out for years. I caught my first glimpse with Vic in the car."

Vic shrugged. "She likes me. I've been trying to track where she lives, but it always points directly at the area next to the station."

Kori had left her stacks of paperwork at the department. "All I have is the knife that she dropped- no prints, clean as a whistle, down to the engravings."

"She knows her business. She's definitely inside." Mare had been with the department too long- she knew people too well. "The station has two suspects chosen- it's between the two shortest women who don't have concrete alibis. Kaitlin of adulterer fame and Jenny Wilkinson. Neither seems likely to be the Morrigan."

Raven frowned, sipping from the ice-water always left out at restaurants. Mare was doing the same. The rest avoided water like it was the plague. "Wait a second- I've heard that name before."

"Well, we've all been talking about her for a week now," Kori said. Gar had gestured very quickly, still scared of saying such a thing to her. She had left the room when he asked which channel she would prefer, and had melted a glass paperweight.

"No. No one said Morrigan. People have said assassin, killer, Kori's obsession- no Morrigan." She tapped the table, running her fingers in some odd design- a sign that she was trying not to let emotions get out of control. "Spell Morrigan."

Kori decided to humor her friend. The very dangerous don't-mess-with-me-or-you'll-regret-it look could have had something to do with her decision. "M-O-R-R-I-G-A-N."

Raven turned to the side, a polite thing to do when doing a spit-take. Gar was relieved- one thing had gone right for him for the day. The bad part was that he was probably finished, and the ring in its box was still heavy in his pocket. "That knife you found- did it have any knot-work? Intertwining lines, shapes, designs- possibly of snakes?"

"Funny twisty designs? Yes." Kori had studied the knife for clues. So had Dick. So had Vic and Mare.

"Any dogs?" Raven ignored strange looks.

"One, yes. An Irish setter, by all guesses, but with a snarl on its face- female dog, or a male carved to be politically correct."

"Who told you Morrigan had no significance?"

"Jenny Wilkinson."

"There's your assassin."

Vic, Kori, and Mare looked at each other for a moment. For almost a full minute, there was dead silence. Then, simultaneously, they started laughing. _"Jenny?" _

"Yes, if she couldn't find Morrigan."

"It does mean something?" Vic asked.

"Just type that word into any search engine and you'll have all the information you could ever hope to have. Gotham's used to theme crimes, and I know there are filters for that sort of name. Celtic mythology- she's Irish, right?"

"Right."

"Then she'd know about the Morrigan. Celtic mythology is more original than the Greek, but not as dark as Norse. The Morrigan is a tri-fold goddess, but her most famous form is Crone." She drew blank looks. "Tri-fold goddesses have three forms: Maiden, Mother, and Crone. They are all three at once, an ancient belief always coupled with a female deity. The Catholic church first adapted the idea of a trinity to a male figure, but earlier civilizations take credit for most all tales of Christians, Greeks- everybody."

"What does that mean?" Dick asked.

"The Morrigan takes souls of the dead from battlefields, and has hell-hounds as eternal companions- like on the knife. If you saw the Morrigan washing your clothes, you knew you were going to die. She's a pretty popular goddess among those interested in culture."

Vic was still in shock. "You mean- any search engine could find her."

"Yes. I mentionedthat. Test it if you like, but I'll bet any amount of money you'll find her."

"You mean- _Jenny Wilkinson _has been fooling the entire department for years."

"That's about right." She frowned. "Wilkinson? Is she a red-head?" She took shocked looks for a 'yes.' "Because a Jennifer Wilkinson had the chance to press charges against someone for kidnapping- a friend of mine at the DA told me about the case. She said that it wouldn't matter, that he couldn't be brought to trial any longer. She guessed he was dead. Jenny-"

"Was kidnapped by Slade," Dick finished for her. "She's the only person Catwoman knew of to come out alive. But that was years ago, back before the Titans were through, from the timeline."

"The year- it had to be that time that Slade nearly killed that cop- Mare, that was your partner. That day, why was Slade attacking?" Raven had missed the prelude.

"He was trying to show his apprentice displeasure that she wasn't breaking, by destroying an entire city."

"Why didn't he kill her?"

"He couldn't fully get Robin," Raven said slowly. "He wanted me alive so Trigon could open the portal. Only one person knows why."

The six said it together. "Jenny."

* * *

When their waitress came to the table to take drink orders, she found an empty booth. Someone had scribbled a quick note on a napkin- _Thanks. This is for you. _Beneath the napkin, she found a tip. A very generous tip. She hadn't even brought drinks. Doing what any person with high morals on a shoe-string budget would do, she pocketed the money. She was going through college, it was meant for her- those people were just something special. _

* * *

_

The six walked into the station. Vic and Mare were due to start a shift in an hour. Kori was early, but Renee wasn't up front. Dick was in full Nightwing regalia- he kept a spare suit in the car, just in case. Raven looked angry enough to make cops not start anything. Gar was green. People just knew there was some reason a green man was walking around their station with a group of cops and superheroes.

"Jenny." Vic walked up to the desk a little ahead of his companions. She gave a shy smile. For once, he didn't return it. "We need to talk." He had his cop face on, one much improved after a little over a week in training with Mare. "About Slade."

"Well, you can ask Renee. She's in her office with Bullock- they have a lead that they're following. I'll page her-"

"The Morrigan is a pretty famous figure in Celtic mythology. If someone can read Gaelic- there are many stories about her." Raven had moved forward. Vic was still a little bit behind himself. "Fitting, isn't it?"

"You pass information to Charlie. Glancing at it isn't a crime." Mare's face was unreadable. "Anywhere else, killing would be."

"A friend of yours called me a few minutes after you left at 9:20. From what Kori says, that's your signature move." For once, Gar had something to contribute to this investigationthat wasn't comic relief. He looked as shocked as the rest of them.

"What do you want?" Jenny asked. For once, she looked directly at them, ignoring paperwork and computer screens and a ringing phone. Really, she didn't ignore the phone. She just disconnected the caller without glancing for an identity.

"We want to get Slade," Nightwing told her. His appearance in the station had raised less fuss than he had believed possible.

"We want to help you." Vic was still in uniform, badge in pocket already showing the signs of the clear protective coating fading away.

"We want you to stop running from your problems, Mona Lisa." Kori wasn't as imposing as her uniform. That was just a cover, and the lack of a gun holster was apparent. She was far from unarmed. Raising the righteous anger needed for starbolts to get Slade? No problem.

"We want you to be happy." Gar was looking at Raven. Neither Raven nor Jenny noticed.

"We want you to have back-up. Going it alone against a guy like that's just not very smart." Raven held Jenny's glare. "It's true. I need back-up to go against Slade, and I still haven't won." The assassin looked away first.

"And we want you to drop off criminals here at the precinct for booking. Messy, I know, but far more legal." Mare was all business. "Don told me to tell you that the one criminal he wouldn't mind seeing dead is Slade. Old One-Eye is way too creepy to look in the eye."

"How is Don?" Raven asked.

"Wheelchair-bound, at least until physical therapy. He feels his toes- wiggled them today to show off before I went to court. He's just unsteady on his feet. We can't thank you-"

Raven cut her off. "Just doing my job, Mare. You really want to thank me? Give my number to girls who want to prosecute but can't afford a lawyer. Sexual assault isn't handled right in the business, the only crime where the accuser is prosecuted."

"I'll do that," she promised. They shook on it. Raven noticed something about Mare's other hand. So did Gar.

"You weren't wearing that last we met."

"Don couldn't talk last we met- first words out of his mouth, fool man. We'll get married eventually. He says he's walking down the aisle. He said he would have done the whole genuflecting business, but you know, the old legs weren't cooperating."

Mare knew all hell was about to break loose. She, Vic, and Kori were in uniform. Nightwing was beginning to look uncomfortable. Gar was green- did that count? He was beginning to draw stares. Green men weren't required for conversing with the girl in charge of paperwork. Rae had just gotten out of her latest martial arts class, and nearly took out the poor cadet to crash into her with hands at the wrong level.

Officers Vic knew sidled and stepped up, depending on the person in question. "Mare, you wouldn't leave us behind, would you? Y'all can't steal all the fun," Alex (-andra under pain of death) drawled.

"It wouldn't be polite," Kemosabe added with a slow smile.

"Kemosabe, this is not an on the books mission."

He was a foot taller than Mare. He backed down.

"I outrank you, Mare, and your two cop friends too. And if Jenny's going, so are we." Senior Detective Renee Montoya had her mind set on going, and her partner was right behind her.

Harvey Bullock had further reasons. "You don't have anything we haven't seen before. We've met 'Wing. I've seen green man here on television. What's the problem?"

Vic and Kori exchanged looks. "Any extraordinary talents are completely confidential," they chorused, unplanned.

"Got it," Alex, Kemosabe, Renee, and Harv said together. They lived in Gotham. Criminals were more often than not sent to the insane institution than the jail. "But why's Jenny coming?" Renee asked, as ranking officer.

"Because I'm the Morrigan."

"What?" five people asked, loud enough to turn a few heads and make a few employees pop above cubicles like some odd urban prairie dogs. Charlie had been on his way to ask the chief about recruiting Don as a partner for the dispatch when he heard Jenny's quiet announcement.

"We're all unofficially going to get Slade, and Jenny's the assassin we've been chasing for years," Mare explained, unflappable.

"Then I'm coming with you."

"Charlie! You hate guns. You hate fighting. You haven't been under fire since your partner. You-"

"I'm Raven's sparring partner for jujitsu."

Rae nodded. "He's pretty good."

"Says the girl who beats me every time."

"Jujitsu, Rae?" Nightwing asked. "I thought martial arts were my thing."

"You have gadgets. I need to keep something in reserve. Besides, a girl has to defend herself. I won't be a liability. Neither will Charlie."

"Let's just get out of here before anything too secret comes out," Jenny interrupted. "Some things are better left to small company."


	13. Getting Ready

There was surprisingly little fuss as the group left the building. Jenny clocked herself out early, calling a replacement from personnel. Charlie was off-duty. Renee and Harvey had four minutes left of their shift- they had made those minutes up many times over. Kori was leaving the building, as per orders. Kemosabe and Alex had finished their station reports. Raven was known in the department, and often visited officers. Gar was known for being a bit green, and he was with Raven. Vic and Mare had been in earlier to get final facts before court trials. Nightwing was a little more conspicuous, but at least no one clamored for an autograph.

Her apartment was easy enough to walk to, but Mare and Harv drove their patrol cars, just to have them. Her doorman had been through the best of training. He didn't even blink to hold the door for eight uniformed cops, a stranger with purple hair, a stranger with green skin, a known superhero, and the resident of the apartment. All he did was wish them a good afternoon.

Jenny didn't bother to play hostess. Instead, she addressed the gathered group the instant the door was closed. "If at all possible, I'd rather not have the world know about this. Secret identities are better left secret. I have most of my info through a tracer on a network I know Slade uses- extremely discreet. I had an extra tracer that I was going to put in the police radio, but I knew most things before police had a hint. I threw it out. Somebody salvaged it from the trash and put the casing back together- I disabled it, but someone still tried."

Charlie nodded, just once. "That would be Kaitlin. I didn't think she was up to it. Still, she and Adam are more than up to digging through trash."

"I did send in anonymous tip reports whenever something the police would like came up- like the Nylon robber, or the whole business with the department store clown." The senior police officers nodded. Vic, Raven, and Gar were confused.

Renee looked up from her notepad, where she had been scribbling something out. "Here's the deal. Morrigan dies in tragic spree gone wrong- staged, so no worries. The station is sad to lose a dedicated crime fighter, regardless of dubious methods, and an ally in justice. That sounds just cheesy enough to fly in the papers. I'll talk to Chief. He's probably guessed, knowing him. After that- it's up to you. Fixate on a new villain and use more legal methods, and move out of Gotham. We have a resident all-purpose vigilante, and he doesn't share prowling grounds."

"Shouldn't we beat Slade first?" Jenny asked. She looked the same as always, but a person looking for it could find hard edges in her eyes.

"Good point. He's tricky. An old . . ." Nightwing paused. The issue was still volatile, even after small resolutions. "Acquaintance," he decided, "dunked him in lava. He still wasn't gone, and came back swinging." Yet another issue- he had never forgotten that night Raven stopped time. She had unfrozen him to save him from impending death, and because he knew Slade more than he wanted to. He understood, in the way old veterans of heavy combat know the terrors of gunfire and smoke and blood.

"I know how we can get him when he isn't acting as Slade. He sleeps during the day." Her voice was uncharacteristically intense- this was a heavy topic. "He has an apartment on the northwest corner of Millard and Fillmore. Fourth floor, west side, third window from the left."

"How long have you been planning this, exactly?" Vic asked.

"I started out as a small-time spy, free-lancing during the day to track wayward spouses and stopping petty crime by night. Low pay, but an interesting career. Slade thought I had promise. I played nice. When his back was turned, I ran. I had been dying my hair black and smoothing it out- red stands out too much for tailing someone. He chased me into Jump City, and caused all sorts of mayhem. He was distracted with the cops, and that was the opening I needed. I absconded, to put it prettily, running fast as I could. I hijacked a car someone had abandoned and high-tailed it to Gotham."

"How old are you?" Mare asked, giving her a critical look. "You've been working for us for two years and a month. Your records say twenty."

"Twenty-three," she admitted. "I went through high school to make it convincing. I went into police work to keep track. I made a new identity. I never meant to lie."

Renee Montoya was the officer with the most clout. "Jenny, you really should re-think your career choice. Stop killing, and you'll be a hell of an officer."

Harv agreed. "No offense, but you don't look like much. That helps in scuffles. If you were partnered with an intimidation factor, like Vic- the team would go places."

"I'll think about it," she promised. "So, are we walking over? Cops are a bit conspicuous."

"Some walk, some ride- look like we're scoping someone out." Mare had a plan, as always. "Vic, you walk with the lovely Morrigan to the complex- you both scope out the place. Alex, Kemosabe- don't argue. Get back to the station, and put in a response-ready for medics. No radio on this- we're not giving away surprise." She allowed a second for the inevitable protest. "Vic's going for personal reasons, and because he's with me. Renee and Harv are senior officers. Kori- well, she's worked on this case and has a little more experience than her resume suggests."

"Raven, Garfield, and Nightwing, you're in our squad car." Renee glanced at the costumed superhero's garb. "That would stick out a mile away. Charlie, Kori, and Mare park on the other side of the block. We'll get watches in sync, go in using small groups, and act casual. Got it?"

There was no answer. Instead, everyone moved out. Alex and Kemosabe grumbled, but knew they would be better off as back-up. Cops didn't do well in crowds- too many red flags went up, and there was too much of a chance someone on their team would get hurt. It was a boring assignment, but it was the best they could give to the team.

* * *

"So, you have a reason for not going on a second date?" Vic asked. They had exhausted small talk in less than a block. He was still processing her night job, she was more than a little uncomfortable with people knowing after it had been her secret. 

"I guess- I don't want to get too close. It would interfere with the Morrigan. Besides, no one else has ever been nearly as persistent."

"Is that a good or a bad thing?"

"I'll let you know later. But- after Slade- maybe we could-" She stopped, as if someone had flicked a switch in her mind. Except only Vic's mind had switches. "I mean, we can discuss this later. Let's talk about- why you need to wear that ring."

"People won't look past the metal, otherwise. It's fine when you're a known superhero. When you're not, they assume. Still, it has its uses."

"Like what?" There was nothing better to discuss, and seven blocks of lunch-rush congestion to shove through.

"It scans uploads. Everything goes through the left wrist, so my right's always fully functional. I can do without a left for a while, but I need the right. Then, mishaps are less drastic and let me keep fighting."

"So, have you ever had any glitches?" Jenny asked, latching onto a conversation topic that promised to be amusing and not focused on her, the Morrigan, or the possibility of a date. She hardly understood any of it- everything was a muddle.

"Any? Just about once a week, at the worst times. I remember once, there was an incident involving a haddock, a muffin, and a nun . . ."


End file.
